
























* 



















TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


GRACE LIVINGSTON HILL’S 

Charming and Wholesome Romances 

Tomorrow About This Time 

The Tryst 

The City of Fire 

Cloudy Jewel 

Exit Betty 

The Search 

The Red Signal 

The Enchanted Barn 

The Finding of Jasper Holt 

The Obsession of Victoria Gracen 

Miranda 

The Best Man 

Lo, Michael! 

Marcia Schuyler 
Phoebe Deane 
Dawn of the Morning 
The Mystery of Mary 
The Girl from Montana 
The Big Blue Soldier 






TOMORROW 
ABOUT THIS TIME 



1923 



/ 

. \ 

COPYRIGHT, 1923, BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 



PRINTED BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 
AT THE WASHINGTON SQUARE PRESS 
PHILADELPHIA, U. S. A. 


JUL 28 1923': 


Cl A 711 3 8 9 




Vi v A) 


V 


TOMORROW 
ABOUT THIS TIME 


I 

The letter lay on the top of the pile of mail on the 
old mahogany desk, a square envelope of thick parchment 
with high, dashing handwriting and faint, subtle fragrance. 

The man saw it the instant he entered the room. It 
gave him a sick dull thrust like an unexpected blow in the 
solar plexus. He had come back to the home of his child¬ 
hood after hard years to rest, and here was this! 

It was from his former wife, Lilia, and no word from 
her in all the twelve years since their divorce had ever 
brought anything but disgust and annoyance. 

He half turned toward the door with an impulse of 
retreat, but thought better of it and stalked over to the 
desk, tearing open the envelope roughly as if to have the 
worst over quickly. It began abruptly, as Lilia would. 
He could see the white jewelled fingers flying across the 
page, the half flippant fling of the pen. Somehow the 
very tilt of the letters as she had formed them contrived 
to give the taunting inflection of her voice as he read: 

“ Well, Pat, the time is up, and as the court decreed 
I am sending you your daughter. I hope you haven't for¬ 
gotten, for it would be rather awkward for the poor thing. 
I’m going to be married in a few days now and wouldn't 
know what to do with her. She’s fourteen and has your 
stubbornness, but she’s not so bad if you let her have 
her own way in everything. Don’t worry, she’s the kind 

5 


0 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


that marries young, and shell probably take herself off 
your hands soon. I wish you well of your task.—Lilia.” 

He sat back in the old mahogany chair and steadied 
his arms on the chair-arms. The paper was shaking in 
his fingers. Something inside of him began to tremble. 
He had a feeling that it was his soul that was shaking. 
Like quicksilver along his veins the weakness ran, like 
quicksands his strength slid away from beneath his grop¬ 
ing feet. He had not known that a man in his prime could 
be so puny, so helpless. Why, all the little particles of his 
flesh were quivering! His lips were trembling like an 
old person’s. He was as a frail ship tossed in the trough 
of great waves. He could not right himself nor get any 
hold on his self-control. He could not seem to think 
what it all meant. He tried to read it over again and 
found the words dancing before his eyes with strange, 
grotesque amusement at his horror, like the look in Lilia’s 
eyes when she knew she had hit one hard in a sensitive spot. 

“ His daughter! ” 

He had not seen her since she was two years old, and 
had taken very little notice of her then. His mind had 
been too much filled with horror and disappointment to 
notice the well-suppressed infant who spent her days in a 
nursery at the top of the house when she was not out in 
the park with her nurse. A memory of ribbons and frills, 
pink-and-whiteness, and a stolid stare from a pair of alien 
eyes that were all too much like Lilia’s to make any appeal 
to his fatherhood, that was his child, all he could recall 
of her. Even her name, he remembered bitterly, had 
been a matter of contention. Athalie, the name of a 
heathen queen! That had been her mother’s whim. She 
said it was euphonious. Athalie Greeves! And she had 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


7 


enjoyed his horror and distaste. And now this child 
with the heathen name was coming home to him! 

He had looked on her as an infant still. He had not 
realized in the big sharp experiences of the life he was 
living that the years were flying. It could not be fourteen! 
He had heard the judge’s decree that the child was to 
remain with her mother until she reached the age of four¬ 
teen years, and was then to pass to the guardianship of 
her father, but he had thought he would not be living when 
that came to pass. He had felt that his life was over. He 
had only to work hard enough and fill every moment with 
something absorbing, and he would wear out early. But 
here he was, a young man yet, with honors upon him, and 
new vistas opening up in his intellectual life in spite of the 
blighted years behind him; and here was this child of his 
folly, suddenly grown up and flung upon him, as if his 
mistakes would not let him go, but were determined to 
drag him back and claim him for their own! 

He bowed his head upon his arms and groaned aloud. 

Patterson Greeves, brilliant scholar, noted bacteriolo¬ 
gist, honored in France for his feats of bravery and his 
noted discoveries along the line of his chosen profession, 
which had made it possible to save many lives during the 
war; late of Siberia where he had spent the time after the 
signing of the armistice doing reconstruction work and 
making more noteworthy discoveries in science; had at 
last come back to his childhood’s home after many years, 
hoping to find the rest and quiet he needed in which to 
write the book for which the scientific world was clamor¬ 
ing, and this had met him on the very doorstep as it were 
and flung him back into the horror of the tragedy of his 
younger days. 

In his senior year of college, Patterson Greeves had 


8 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


fallen in love with Alice Jarvis, the lovely daughter of the 
Presbyterian minister in the little college town where he 
had spent the years of his collegiate work. 

Eagerly putting aside the protests of her father and 
mother, for he was very much in love, and obtaining his 
failing uncle’s reluctant consent, he had married Alice as 
soon as he was graduated, and accepted a flattering offer 
to teach biology in his Alma Mater. 

They lived with his wife’s mother and father, bemuse 
that was the condition on whiqh the consent for the no¬ 
nage had been given, for Alice was barely eighteen. b 

A wonderful, holy, happy time it was, during which 
heaven seemed to come down to earth and surround them, 
and the faith of his childhood appeared to be fulfilled 
through this ideal kind of living, with an exalted belief in 
all things eternal. 

Then had fallen the blow! 

Sweet Alice, exquisite, perfect in all he had ever 
dreamed a wife could be, without a moment’s warning, 
slipped away into the Eternal, leaving a tiny flower of a 
child behind, but leaving his world dark—forever dark— 
without hope or God—so he felt. 

He had been too stunned to take hold of life, but the 
sudden death of his uncle, Standish Silver, who had been 
more than a father to him, called him to action, and he 
was forced to go back to his childhood’s home at Silver 
Sands to settle up the estate, which had all been left 
to him. 

While he was still at Silver Sands his father-in-law 
had written to ask if he would let them adopt the little 
girl as their own in place of the daughter whom they 
had lost. Of course he would always be welcomed as a 
son, but the grandfather felt he could not risk letting his 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


9 


wife keep the child and grow to love it tenderly, if there 
were danger of its being torn away from them in three 
or four years and put under the care of a stepmother. The 
letter had been very gentle, but very firm, quite sensible 
and convincing. The young father accepted the offer 
without a protest. In his stunned condition he did not 
care. He had scarcely got to know his child. He shrank 
from the little morsel of humanity because she seemed 
to his shocked senses to have been the cause of her mother’s 
clean. It was like pressing a sore wound and opening it 
afresh. Also he loved his wife’s father and mother ten¬ 
derly, and felt that in a measure it was due them that he 
should make up in every way he could for the daughter 
they had lost. 

So he gave his consent and the papers were signed. 

Business matters held him longer than he had expected, 
but for a time he fully expected to return to his father- 
in-law’s house. A chance call, however, to a much better 
position in the East, which would make it possible for 
him to pursue interesting studies in Columbia University 
and fill his thoughts to the fuller exclusion of his pain, 
finally swayed him. He accepted the new life somewhat 
indifferently, almost stolidly, and went his way out of 
the life of his little child of whom he could not bear even 
to hear much. 

From time to time he had sent generous gifts of money, 
but he had never gone back, because as the years passed 
he shrank even more from the scene where he had been 
so happy. 

He had absorbed himself in his studies fiercely until 
his health began to suffer, and then some of his old college 
friends who lived in New York got hold of him* and 
insisted that hq should go out with them. Before he 


10 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


realized it, he was plunged into a gay, reckless company 
of people who appeared to be living for the moment and 
having a great time out of it. It seemed to satisfy some¬ 
thing fierce in him that had been roused by the death of 
Alice and he found himself going more and more with 
them. For one thing, he found common ground among 
them in that they had cast aside the old beliefs in holy 
things. It gave him a sort of fierce pleasure to feel that 
he had identified himself with those who defied God and 
the Bible and went their wilful way. He could not for¬ 
give God, if there were a God, for having taken away 
his wife, and he wanted to pay Him back by unbelief. 

They were brilliant men and women, many of those 
with whom he had come to companion, and they kept his 
heart busy with their lightness and mirth, so that gradu¬ 
ally his sorrow wore away and he was able to shut the 
door upon it and take up a kind of contentment in life. 

And then he met Lilia! 

From the first his judgment had not approved of her. 
From the first she seemed a desecration to Alice, and he 
stayed away deliberately from many places where he 
knew she was to be. But Lilia was a strong personality, 
as clever in her way as he, and she found that she could 
use Patterson Greeves to climb to social realms from 
which her own reckless acts had shut her out. Moreover, 
Patterson Greeves was attractive, with his scholarly face, 
his fine physique, his brilliant wit, flashing through a pre¬ 
mature sternness that only served to make him the more 
distinguished. When Lilia found that he not only belonged 
to a fine old family dating back to Revolutionary times, 
but had a goodly fortune in his own right, she literally laid 
aside every weight, and for a time, almost “ the sin which 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 11 

doth so easily beset,” and wove a net for his unsuspect¬ 
ing feet. 

Then, all unaware, the lonely, weary, rebellious man 
walked into the pleasant net. He read with her for hours 
at a time, and found himself enjoying her quaint comments, 
her quick wit, her little tendernesses. He suddenly re¬ 
alized that his first prejudice had vanished, and he was 
really enjoying himself in her society. 

Lilia was clever. She knew her man from the start. 
She played to his weaknesses, she fostered his fancies, and 
she finally broke down one day and told him her troubles. 
Then somehow he found himself comforting her. From 
that day on matters moved rapidly. Lilia managed to 
make him think he was really in love with her. He won¬ 
dered if perhaps after all the sun were going to shine 
again for him; and he put the past under lock and key 
and began to smile again. 

He and Lilia were married soon, and set up an estab¬ 
lishment in New York, but almost from the start he began 
to be undeceived. The evenings of reading together 
suddenly began to openly bore her. Lilia had no notion 
of settling down to a domestic life. Her husband was 
only one of many on whom she lavished her smiles, and 
as soon as she had him safely she began to show her true 
nature, selfish, untrue, disloyal, mercenary, ambitious. 

The revelation did not come all at once. Even after 
their child was born he still had hope of winning her to 
a simpler, more possible manner of life. But he found that 
the child was in her eyes only a hindrance to her ambitions 
and that he was not even that; and when Lilia filled his 
house with men and women of another world than his, 
whose tastes and ways were utterly distasteful to him, 
he began to absent himself more and more from home. 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


12 

This had been made possible by the growing demand for 
his services as lecturer and adviser in the world of science. 
So it came about that whenever he received an invitation 
of this sort he accepted it, until sometimes he would be 
away lecturing in universities for weeks at a time, or 
touring the West. 

The little Athalie had never meant anything to him 
but a reproach. Somehow her round blank stare had al¬ 
ways sent his thoughts back to the first little one whom 
he had given away; and he felt a reproach in spite of the 
fact that he always reasoned it out within himself that 
he had done well in so doing. 

So, at war with himself, he had grown more and 
more morose, living to himself whenever he was at home; 
scarcely ever even a figurehead in his own house at the 
functions which his wife delighted to give to her own gay 
set. As he grew to understand the true character of his 
second wife his mind reverted to his old bitterness against 
a God—if there were a God—who had thrust this hard 
fate upon him. 

So, bitterly and haughtily, he had lifted his proud 
head and taken the blows of life without comfort. And 
now he had come home. 

He had arrived in the late afternoon, and found the 
town of Silver Sands much as he left it years ago. There 
was a new thrifty little stucco station in place of the grimy 
one of clapboards of the old days, but the old barns and 
blacksmith-shop were there just as he left them, a trifle 
more weather-beaten and dilapidated, but doing a thriving 
business in automobile-tires and truck-repairs. 

The old stone church where as a child he went to 
Sunday-school, and sat beside Aunt Lavinia in the dim 
pew afterwards, with Uncle Standish next the aisle, and 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


13 


squirmed or slept through a long service, looked just the 
same, save that the ivy on the tower grew thicker and 
higher. The graveyard sloping down the hill behind, 
the Baptist church across the corner—red brick with 
aspen-trees in front and chalk-marks where the children 
played hopscotch during the week on the brick walk up 
to the steps, were unchanged. A little farther on he could 
see the red brick schoolhouse where he went to school 
glimmering through the trees, and the old bare play¬ 
ground where he used to play baseball. There he had 
somehow bluffed his way into high school and finally pre¬ 
pared for college. He had heard rumors of a new high 
school up in the new part of town, but the old part where 
he had lived his young life seemed almost unchanged. 

He had gone into the old house expecting to find the 
chill of the long-closed place about it, but the door had 
swung open, and the old servitor, Joe Quinn, with his 
wife Molly, the cook, had stood smiling at the end of 
the hall a little wrinkled and gray, rounder as to form, 
more bent; and there in the parlor door quite ceremon¬ 
iously had stood Anne Truesdale, an English woman whom 
his Aunt Lavinia had befriended when her husband died, 
and who had been housekeeper since his aunt’s death. Her 
hair was white and she had lost her rosy cheeks, but her 
eyes were bright and her thin form as erect as ever in its 
black silk and thin white cuffs and collar. She put out a cere¬ 
monious hand to welcome the boy she used to chide, with a 
deference to his years and station that showed her reverence 
for him.- 

“ Well, Master Pat/’ she said, using the old name he 
had not heard for years, “ So yer come again. Welcome 
home! It’s right glad we are to see ye! ” 


14 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


For the moment it almost seemed as if he. were a 
boy again coming home for vacation. 

He went up to his room and found it unchanged with 
the years. He spent a happy moment glancing over the 
old pictures of high-school teams that were framed on 
his walls. Then he came down to the dining-room and 
sat at the wide table alone eating a supper as like to those 
of his childhood as the same cook could make it: stewed 
chicken with little biscuits, currant jelly from the bushes 
in the garden, prune jam and cherry delight from the 
trees he had helped to plant, mashed potatoes as smooth 
as cream, peas that were incredibly sweet, little white 
onions smothered in cream, cherry pie that would melt 
in your mouth for flakiness, and coffee like ambrosia. 

Shades of the starving Russians! Was he dreaming? 
Where was Siberia? Had the war ever been? Was he 
perhaps a boy again? 

But no! Those empty places across the table! That 
ivy-covered church down the street surrounded by its 
white gravestones showing in the dusk! A world of hor¬ 
ror in France between! Other gravestones too, and an 
empty sinful world! Ah! No, he was not a boy again! 

He opened the door of the dear old library half expect¬ 
ing to see the kindly face of his Uncle Standish sitting at 
the desk, and instead, there was the letter! 

He had come home for rest and peace, and this had 
met him! He seemed to hear Lilia's mocking laugh ring¬ 
ing clearly through the distant halls as if her spirit had 
lingered to watch over her letter and enjoy its reception. 
It was like Lilia to prepare the setting of a musical comedy 
for anything she had to do. Why couldn’t she have written 
to ask him what he wanted her to do about the child ? 

His anger rose. Lilia should not make a laughing- 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


15 


stock of him in any such way. He glanced at the date 
of the letter and angrily reached for the telephone: 

“Give me Western Union!” he demanded sternly, 
and dictated his telegram crisply: 

“ On no account send the child here. Will make 
immediate arrangements for her elsewhere. Letter fol¬ 
lows by first mail. P.S.G.” 

He hung up the receiver with a click of relief as if he 
had thus averted some terrible calamity, and sank wearily 
back in his chair, beads of perspiration standing out on 
his forehead. It was almost as if he had had a personal 
encounter with Lilia. Any crossing of swords between 
them had always left him with a sense of defeat. 

He tried to rally and busy himself with the other 
letters. Two from his publishers demanding copy at once, 
an invitation from an exclusive scientific society to speak 
before their next national convention, a call from a western 
college to occupy the chair of sciences, a proposition from 
a lecture bureau to place his name on their list in a course 
of brilliant speakers. He threw them down aimlessly and 
took up the last letter without glancing at the address. 
They all seemed so trivial. What was fame to an 
empty life? 

Then he brought back his wandering gaze and read: 

“ Dear Father:—” 

He started. Not for several years had he read a letter 
beginning that way. Athalie had never written to him. 
He had not expected it. She was Lilia’s child. 

But this was from Alice’s child. The writing was so 
exactly like her girl-mother’s that it gave his heart a wrench 
to look at it. She had not written him since he had married 
Lilia. Well, it had not mattered. She did not belong 
to him—never had. He had given her away. He had 


16 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


always felt her childish little letters full of stilted gratitude 
for the gifts he sent were merely perfunctory. Why 
should she care for him? She could not remember him. 
He had been rather relieved than otherwise because he 
had a troubled feeling that they entailed more than a mere 
check at Christmas and birthdays. And now after several 
years’ silence she had written again! Strange that both 
his children should have been suddenly thrust upon his 
notice on this same day! He read on: 

“ I suppose you received the word I sent while you 
were abroad that Grandfather died of influenza last 
November right in the midst of his work. Grandmother 
has been slipping away ever since, though she tried to 
rally for my sake. But two weeks ago she left me, and 
now I am alone. I sent a letter to your foreign address, 
but I saw in the papers today that you had landed and 
were going to Silver Sands, and a great longing has come 
over me to see my father once before I go to work. I 
am not going to be a burden to you. Grandfather had 
saved enough to keep me comfortably even if I did nothing, 
but I have also secured a good position with a very good 
salary for a beginner, and I shall be able to care for myself, 
I think, without at present touching the money that was 
left me. 

“ Grandmother said something a few days before she 
died that has given me courage to write this letter. I 
have always felt, and especially since you married again, 
that you did not want me or you would not have given 
me to Grandmother, and of course I don’t want to intrude 
upon you, although I’ve always been very proud of you 
and have read everything I could find in the papers about 
you. But one day two weeks ago Grandmother said: 

‘ Silver,’—they always called me Silver, you know, because 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


17 


they wanted to keep the Alice for Mother,—* Silver ’ I’ve 
been thinking that perhaps your father might need you 
now. After I’m gone perhaps you better go and see.” 

“ So, father, I’m coming! I hope you won’t mind—” 

Patterson Greeves suddenly dropped the letter and 
buried his face in his hands with a groan which was half 
anguish, half anger, at a Fate which had suddenly decided 
to make him a puppet in the comedy of life. He was like 
one under mortal anguish. He kicked the heavy desk- 
chair savagely back from under him, and strode to the 
window like a caged animal. Staring out with unseeing 
eyes at the calm dusk of the evening sky across the meadow, 
he tried to realize that this was really himself, Patterson 
Greeves, to whom all this incredible thing was happening. 
Horrible! Impossible! 

He sensed that somewhere back in his soul was a 
large engulfing contempt for himself. This was no atti¬ 
tude, of course, for a father to have toward his children. 
But then they had never really been his children in the 
strict sense of the word, and nothing had ever been right 
in his life. Why should he try to be? It was all God’s 
fault, if there were a God—taking Alice away! None 
of these unnatural things would ever have happened if 
Alice had lived! And now God was trying to force him 
back to the blackness of his ruined life again after he had 
in a measure gained a certain hard kind of peace. 

He flung his head up defiantly toward the evening 
sky, as if he would vow that God should make nothing 
from him by treating him so. He was master of his fate 
no matter how “ charged with punishment the scroll.” 
God! To dare to be a God and yet to treat him so! 


2 


The old Silver place stood back from the street just 
far enough for privacy and not far enough to seem 
exclusive. 

The General Silver who built it in Revolutionary times 
had been a democratic soul, and his sons who had fol¬ 
lowed him were of like mind. The last grandson, Standish 
Silver, now sleeping in the quiet churchyard just below 
the bend of the hill, was the friend and counsellor of every 
one in the village, his home alike the rendezvous and 
refuge of all classes. Perhaps it was the habit of the 
house through the long years that had given it that genial 
attitude, wide-spread and welcoming as it stood among 
its trees and old-fashioned shrubs, with the same dignity 
and gentleness of bearing it had worn in the days when 
its owners were living within, as if it had a character 
to maintain in the name of the family, though all its 
immediate members were gone. 

There were many newer houses in Silver Sands that 
boasted modern architecture, and in their ornate and pre¬ 
tentious decorations made claim to be the finest houses 
in town, but still the old Silver place held its own with 
dignity and gentle grace, as if it had no need for preten¬ 
sion. Like a strong, handsome old man of high birth, it 
lifted its distinguished head among all the others of the 
place. There was something classic about its simple lines, 
its lofty columns reaching to the roof, its ample windows 
with wide drawn snowy curtains giving of old a glimpse 
of companionable firelight blazing on a generous hearth. 
It had a home-like, friendly look that drew the eye of a 
18 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


19 


visitor as home draws the soul. It had always been kept 
in perfect repair, and the well-made bricks of which it 
was built had been painted every year a clear cream-white, 
always white with myrtle-green blinds, so that old age 
had only mellowed it and made the color a part of the 
material. It had the air of well-preserved age, like an 
old, old person with beautiful white hair who still cared 
to keep himself fine and distinguished. 

About its feet the myrtle crept, with blue starry blos¬ 
soms in summer; and lush beds of lilies-of-the-valley, gen¬ 
eration after generation of them, clustering, occupied the 
spaces between the front walk and the end verandas, giving 
forth their delicate fragrance even as far as the dusty 
street A tall wall of old lilacs made a background behind 
the verandas at each end. A gnarled wistaria draped a 
pergola at one end while a rich blooming trumpet vine 
flared at the other, miraculously preserved from the devas¬ 
tation of painters each year. A row of rare peonies bor¬ 
dered the walk down to the box hedge in front, and the 
grass was fine and velvety, broken here and there by 
maples, a couple of lacy hemlock-trees, and the soft blend¬ 
ing plumes of the smoke-bush. In the back yard there 
were roses and honeysuckle, snowballs and bridal-wreath, 
bittersweet vines, mountain-ash trees, and a quaint corner 
with walks and borders, where sweet-williams. Johnny- 
jump-ups, canterbury-bells, and phlox still held sway, with 
heliotrope, mignonette, and clove-pinks cloying the air with 
their sweetness, and in their midst an old-fashioned sun¬ 
dial marking the marching of the quiet hours. Almost hid¬ 
den in the rose-vines was a rustic arbor of retreat, where 
one might go to read, and be undisturbed save by the birds 
who dared to nest above it and sing their lullabies unafraid. 
One would scarcely have dreamed that there was left a 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


20 

spot so sweet, so quaint, so true and peaceful in this 
twentieth century rushing world. 

Across the road a meadow stretched far down to misty 
vapors rising from the little stream, whose sand, of a 
peculiar fine and white variety, suitable for use in manu¬ 
facturing fine grades of sandpaper, had given to the Silver 
family its prosperity, and helped to give a name to the 
place started by the first old family—“ Silver Sands.” 

The meadow was rimmed with trees, and here and 
there a group broke the smoothness of its green, but for 
the most part the view was kept open, down across its 
rippling smoothness of close-cropped grass in summer, 
or glistening whiteness of deeplaid snow in winter, open 
down to the gleaming “ river ” as they sometimes dignified 
the little stream. And one looked back to the owners of 
that strip of land with gratitude that they had done this 
thing for the house and for all who should sojourn therein, 
to give this wide stretch of beauty untouched, with room 
for souls who had vision to grow. 

Down beyond the meadow, off to the right, camouflaged 
now and again by a casual tree, or a cropping of rocks, 
huddled the heterogeneous group of buildings which had 
come to be known as Frogtown. It was really originally 
called “ the Flats ” of Silver Sands, but since the factories 
had gone up, the iron-foundry, the glass-works, the silk- 
mill, and like mushrooms, a swarm of little “ overnight 
houses ” filled with a motley foreign and colored popula¬ 
tion, it had somehow grown into the name of Frogtown, 
and one felt that if the original Silver who had held the 
land, and planned the view across the long misty meadow, 
could have looked ahead far enough he would have planted 
a row of tall elms or maples like a wall to shut in his view 
as well as out. For Frogtown in winter lifted stark, grim 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


21 


chimneys of red brick, and belched forth volumes of soft 
black smoke, which, when it got into the picture, was 
enough to spoil any view. 

But in summer the kindly trees had spread more and 
more to shut out the ugliness of the dirty little tenements 
and stark red chimneys, and the tall grass reached up and 
blended the town till one could almost forget it was there. 
Especially at evening could one look out from the windows 
of the dignified old Silver mansion and see the river 
winding smoothly like a silver ribbon just beyond the 
stretch of misty green without a thought of dirty laborers, 
blazing furnaces, flaring pots of molten glass and metal. 
It was like a vision of Peaceful Valley in its still 
natural beauty. 

But it was most mysterious just after the sun had set, 
and the “ trailing clouds of glory ” left behind were lying 
in lovely tatters across a field of jade, above the pearly 
shadows where the river pulsed in dusk, and a single star 
pricked out like a living thing and winked to show the 
night alive. 

For the last fifteen years, since the death of Standish 
Silver, few had looked at this particular view from the 
angle of the Silver house for the reason that there had 
seldom during that period been any one occupying the 
house except the three old servants, who lived in the back 
part, and went “ front ” only to clean and air it. They 
cared little for views. For this reason it was all the more 
wonderful that the house had kept its atmosphere of home, 
and its air of alert friendliness, its miracle of distinction 
from all other houses of the town that sat upon it with 
a kind of pride. 

But on this night, after all the years, the old house 
seemed to smile with content as the evening settled down 


22 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


upon it, and nestled among its shrubbery with an air 
of satisfaction. Back in the inner rooms soft lights began 
to glow under quiet shades, and there seemed a warmth 
and life about the place as if it had wakened because the 
owner had come home. 

As Patterson Greeves stood at the window surrounded 
by this sweetness of the night, this peace of home, his 
raging soul could not but feel the calm of it all, the balm, 
the beauty. The sweet air stole in upon his troubled senses 
and his soul cried out for comfort. Why couldn't they 
have left him in peace to get what inspiration there was 
in this quiet old spot for the hard work that he had 
before him? 

The spell or the meadow came upon him, the mist 
stealing up from the river in wreaths till he felt the blue 
eyes of the violets from their hiding-places as if they were 
greeting him, sensed the folded wings of a butterfly poised 
for the night on a dandelion, began to gather up and single 
out and identify all the delicate smells and sounds and 
stirrings in the meadow that he used to know so long ago. 
Even without going he could seem to know where a big 
flat stone could be lifted up to show the scurrying saw- 
bugs surprised from early sleep. His anger began to 
slip from him, his bitterness of soul to be forgotten. A 
desire stirred in him to steal out and find the particular 
tree-toad that was chirping above his mates, and watch 
him do it. He drank in the night with its clear jade sky, 
littered with tatters of pink and gold. He answered the 
wink of the single star, his old friend from boyhood— 
and then he remembered! 

Out there was the meadow and the mist and the silver 
sand in the starlight, but off down the street in the quiet 
churchyard were two graves! Out the other way was a 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


23 


dead schoolhouse where other boys played ball and bluffed 
their way through lessons. He was not a boy. He had 
no part nor lot in this old village life. He had been a fool 
to come. His life was dead. He had thought he could 
come to this old refuge for inspiration to write a book 
that would add to the world’s store of wisdom and then 
pass on—out—Where? How different it all was from 
what he had dreamed in those happy boy days 1 

Even the old church with its faith in God, in love, in 
humanity and life, in death and resurrection 1 What were 
they now but dead fallacies ? Poor Aunt Lavinia with her 
beautiful trust! How hard she strove to teach him lies! 
Poor Uncle Standish, clean, kind, loving, severe, but 
fatherly and Christian—always Christian! How far he 
had gone from all that now! It seemed as different, the 
life he had been living since Alice died, as a wind-swept, 
arid desert of sand in the pitch-dark would be from this 
living, dusky, mysterious, pulsing meadow under the 
quiet evening sky. And yet—! Well, he believed in the 
meadow of course because he knew it, had lived, with the 
bugs and butterflies and bits of growing things. If he had 
only read about it or been taught of it he might perhaps 
think the earth all arid. He had a passing wish that he 
might again believe in the old faith that seemed to his 
world-weary heart like an old couch whereon one might 
lie at peace and really rest. But of course that was out 
of the question. He had eaten of the tree of knowledge 
and he could not go back into Eden. Poor credulous 
Uncle Standish, poor Aunt Lavinia! Strong and fine 
and good, but woefully ignorant and gullible! How little 
they knew of life! How pleasant to have been like them! 
And yet, they stagnated in the old town, walking in grooves 


24 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


their forebears had carved for them, even thinking the 
thoughts that had been taught them. That was not life. 

Well, why not? He had seen life. And what had 
it given him ? Dust and ashes! A bitter taste! Responsi¬ 
bilities that galled! Hindrances and disappointments! 
Two daughters whom he did not know! An empty heart 
and a jaded soul! Ah! Why live ? 

Into the midst of his bitter thoughts a crimson stain 
flared into the luminous gray of the evening sky as if it 
had been spilled by an impish hand, and almost simultane¬ 
ously out from the old bell-tower in the public square 
there rang a clang that had never in the years gone by 
failed to bring his entire forces to instant attention. The 
red flared higher, and down behind the tall chimneys 
beside the silver beach, a little modern siren set up a shriek 
that almost drowned out the hurried imperious clang of the 
firebell. Another instant and the cry went up from young 
throats down the street, where the voices of play had 
echoed but a second ago, and following upon the sound 
came the gong of the fire-engine, the pulsing of the engine- 
motor, the shouts of men, the chime of boys’ voices, 
hurried, excited, dying away in a breath as the hastily 
formed procession tore away and was lost in the distance, 
leaving the tree-toads to heal over the rent air. 

It took Patterson Greeves but an instant to come to 
life and answer that call that clanged on after the firemen 
had gone on their way. He stayed not for hat nor coat. 
He flung open the front door, swung wide the white gate, 
made one step of the road, and vaulted the fence into the 
meadow. Down through the dear old mysterious meadow 
he bounded, finding the way as if he were a boy again, 
his eye on the crimson flare in the sky. Once he struck 
his foot against a boulder and fell full length, his head 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


25 


swimming, stars vibrating before his eyes, and for an 
instant he lay still, feeling the cool of the close-cropped 
grass in his face, the faint mingle of violet and mint wafted 
gently like an enchantment over him, and an impulse to 
lie still seized him, to give up the mad race and just stay 
here quietly. Then the siren screeched out again and his 
senses whirled into line. Footsteps were coming thud, thud 
across the sod. He struggled half up and a strong young 
arm braced against him and set him on his feet: 

“ C’mon! ” breathed the boy tersely. “ It’s some fire! ” 

“ What is it ? ” puffed the scientist, endeavoring to 
keep pace with the lithe young bounds. 

“ Pickle factory! ” murmured the youth, taking a little 
stream with a single leap. “ There goes the hook ’n ladder! 
We’ll beat ’em to it. Job Trotter cert’nly takes his time. 
I’ll bet a hat the minister was running the engine. He 
certainly can make that little old engine hump herself! 
Here we are! Down this alley an’ turn to yer right—! ” 

They came suddenly upon the great spectacle of leap¬ 
ing flames ascending to heaven, making the golden mark¬ 
ings of the late-departed sun seem dim and far away as 
if one drew near to the edge of the pit. 

The crude framework of the hastily built factory was 
already writhing in its death-throes. The firemen stood 
out against the brightness like shining black beetles in 
their wet rubber coats and helmets. The faces of the 
crowd lit up fearfully with rugged, tense lines and deep 
shadows. Even the children seemed old and sad in the 
lurid light. One little toddler fell down and was almost 
crushed beneath the feet of the crowd as a detachment of 
firemen turned with their hose to run to another spot 
farther up the street where fire had just broken out. The 
air was dense with shouts and curses. Women screamed 


26 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


and men hurried out of the ramshackle houses bearing 
bits of furniture. Just a fire. Just an ordinary fire. 
Thousands of them happening all over the land every day. 
Nothing in it at all compared to the terror of the war. 
Yet there was a tang in the air, a stir in the pulses, that 
made him thrill like a boy to the excitement of it. He 
wondered at himself as he dived to pick up the fallen 
child and found his young companion had been more 
agile. The baby was restored to her mother before her 
first outcry had fully left her lips. 

“ Good work, Blink! ” commended a fireman with face 
blackened beyond recognition, and a form draped in drip¬ 
ping mackintosh. 

“ That's the minister!” breathed the boy in Patterson 
Greeves’ ear, and darted off to pounce upon a young bully 
who was struggling with his baby sister for possession of 
some household treasures. 

Then, as quickly as it had arisen, the fire was gone; 
the homeless families parcelled out among their neighbors; 
the bits of furniture safely disposed of for the night, and 
the fire company getting ready to depart. 

“ Ain’t you goin’ to drive her back? ” the boy asked 
of the tall figure standing beside him. 

Patterson Greeves warmed to the voice that replied: 

“ No, son, I’m going back across the fields with you 
if you don’t mind. I want to get quiet under the stars 
before I sleep, after all this crash.” 

They tramped it together, the three, and there was 
an air of congeniality from the start as of long friendship. 
The boy was quiet and grave as if bringing his intelli¬ 
gence up to the honored standard of his friend, and the 
new man was accepted as naturally as the grass they walked 
upon or a new star in the sky. There was no introduc- 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


27 


tion. They just began. They were talking about the 
rotten condition of the homes that had just burned and 
the rottener condition of the men’s minds who were the 
workers in the industries in Frogtown. The minister said 
it was the natural outcome of conditions after the war, 
and it was going to be worse before it was better, but 
it was going to be better before a fatal climax came, and 
the scientist put in a word about conditions on the 
other side. 

When they had crossed the final fence and stood in 
the village street once more Patterson Greeves waved 
his hand toward the house and said: 

“ You’re coming in for a cup of coffee with me,” and 
the tone included the boy cordially. 

They went in quite as naturally as if they had been 
doing it often and the minister as he laid aside his rubber 
coat and helmet remarked with a genial smile: 

“ I thought it must be you when I first sighted you 
at the Flats. They told me you were coming home. I’m 
glad I lost no time in making your acquaintance! ” 

Blink stuffed his old grimy cap in his hip pocket and 
glowed with pride as he watched the two men shake hands 
with the real hearty handclasp that betokens liking on 
both sides. 

The old servants joyfully responded to the call for 
coffee, and speedily brought a fine old silver tray with 
delicate Sevres cups, and rare silver service, plates of 
hastily made sandwiches—pink with wafer-thin slices of 
sweetbriar ham, more plates of delicate filled cookies, 
crumby with nuts and raisins. Blink ate and ate again 
and gloried in the feast, basking in the geniality of the 
two men, his special particular “ finds ” in the way of 


'28 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


companions. “ Gee! It was great! ” He wouldn’t mind 
a fire every night! 

The coffee-cups were empty and the two men were 
deep in a discussion of industrial conditions in foreign 
lands when suddenly, with sharp insistence the telephone- 
bell rang out and startled into the conversation. With a 
frown of annoyance Patterson Greeves finished his sen¬ 
tence and turned to take down the receiver. 

“ Western Union. Telegram for Patterson Greeves! ” 
the words smote across his consciousness and jerked him 
back into his own troubled life. “Yes?” he breathed 
sharply. 

“ Too late! Athalie already on her way. She should 
reach you tomorrow morning.” 

Signed “ Lilia.” 

It seemed to him as he hung up the receiver, a dazed, 
baffled look upon his face, that he could hear Lilia’s mock¬ 
ing laughter ringing out somewhere in the distance. Again 
she had outwitted him! 


Ill 


Having diligently enquired what time the night express 
from the East reached the near-by city, and finding that 
it was scheduled to arrive fifteen minutes after the early 
morning train left for Silver Sands, and that there was 
not another local train that could bring his unwelcome 
daughter before eleven o’clock, Patterson Greeves ate his 
carefully prepared breakfast with a degree of comfort 
and lingered over his morning paper. 

He had in a long-distance call for the principal of a 
well-known and exclusive girls’ school in New England, 
and he was quite prepared to take the child there at once 
without even bringing her to the house. He had already 
secured by telephone the service of an automobile to con¬ 
vey them at once back to the city, that she might be placed 
on the first train possible for Boston. It remained but 
to arrange the preliminaries with the principal, who was 
well known to him. He anticipated no difficulty in enter¬ 
ing his daughter even though it was late in the spring, 
for he knew that it was likely that a personally conducted 
tour of some sort, or a summer camp, could possibly be 
arranged through this school. These plans were the result 
of a night of vigil. So he read his paper at ease with 
himself and the world. For the moment he had forgotten 
the possible advent of his elder daughter. 

His breakfast finished, he adjourned to the library to 
await the long-distance call. The scattered mail on the 
desk at once recalled Silver and her suggestion that she 
would like to visit him. He frowned and sat down at 
the desk, drawing pen and paper toward him. That must 

29 


30 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


be stopped at once. He had not time nor desire to break 
the strangeness between them at present. In fact his very 
soul shrank from seeing Alice’s child, the more so since he 
had become so aware of Lilia’s child’s approach. 

He wrote a kind if somewhat brusque note to Silver 
saying that she had better defer her visit to some indefinite 
period for the present, as he was suddenly called away 
on business—his half intention to take Athalie to her 
school served as excuse for that statement to his dulled 
conscience—and that he was deeply immersed in important 
literary work in which he could not be disturbed. It 
sounded well as he read it over and he felt decidedly pleased 
with himself for having worded it so tactfully. He 
resolved to send it by special delivery to make sure that 
it reached her before she started. And by the way—what 
was it she said about taking a position? Of course that 
must not be allowed. He was fully able and willing to 
support her. And she could not be too old to go to school. 
He would arrange for that—not in the school where 
Athalie was to be, however! Perhaps she herself would 
have a preference. He would ask her. He reached his hand 
for her letter, which lay on the top of the pile where he 
had droppd it the night before, for both Molly and Anne 
had been well trained by the former master that the papers 
on that desk were sacred and never to be touched. 

As he drew the letter toward him and his eyes fell 
again upon those unaccustomed words: “ Dear Father,” 
something sad and sweet like a forgotten thrill of tender¬ 
ness went through him, and the face of his beautiful young 
wife came up before his vision as it had not come now 
in years. 

But before he could read further, or even realize that 
he had not finished reading the letter the day before, the 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


31 


telephone rang out sharply in the prolonged titillation 
that proclaims a long-distance call, and he dropped the 
paper and reached for the receiver. 

It was the distant school, and the principal for whom 
they had been searching; but she did not fall in with 
Patterson Greeves’ plans with readiness, as he had expected, 
although she at once recognized him. Instead, her voice 
was anxious and distraught and she vetoed his arrange¬ 
ments emphatically. An epidemic of measles had broken 
out in the school in most virulent form. The school was 
under strict quarantine, and it was even doubtful, as it was 
now so late in the spring, whether they would open again 
until fall. They could not possibly accept his daughter 
under the circumstances. 

In the midst of his dismay there came an excited tap¬ 
ping at the door, following certain disturbing sounds of 
commotion in the hall, which had not yet been fully 
analyzed in his consciousness, but which rushed in now to 
his perturbed mind as if they had been penned up while he 
telephoned and lost none of their annoying element by the 
fact that they were but memories. 

He called “ Come in,” and Anne Truesdale in her 
immaculate morning alpaca and stiff white apron and cuffs 
stood before him, a bright spot of color in her already 
rosy cheeks, and a look of indignant excitement in her 
dignified blue eyes. 

“If you please, Master Pat—” she began hurriedly, 
with a furtive glance over her shoulder, “ there’s a strange 
young woman at the front door—” 

“ Hello! Daddy Pat! ” blared out a hoydenish young 
voice insolently, and the young woman, who had stayed 
not on the order of her going, appeared behind the horri¬ 
fied back of the housekeeper. 


82 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


For Athalie Greeves, never at a loss for a way to carry 
out her designs and get all the fun there was going, had 
not waited decorously at the city station for the train 
which should have brought her to Silver Sands, but had 
called from his early morning slumbers a one-time lover 
of her mother whose address she looked up in the tele¬ 
phone book, and made him bring her out in his automobile. 
In his luxurious car he was even now disappearing cityward 
having an innate conviction that he and her father would 
not be congenial. 

Patterson Greeves swung around sharply, his hand still 
on the telephone, his mind a startled blank, and stared. 

Anne Truesdale stiffened into indignant reproof, her 
hands clasped tightly at her white-aproned waist, her chin 
drawn in like a balky horse, her nostrils spread in almost 
a snort, as the youngest daughter of the house sauntered 
nonchalantly into the dignified old library and cast a 
quick, appraising glance about, levelling her gaze on her 
father with a half-indifferent impudence. 

“ Bring my luggage right in here, Quinn! Didn’t you 
say your name was Quinn? ” she ordered imperiously. “ I 
want to show dad some things I’ve brought. Bring them 
in here I said! Didn’t you hear me? ” 

The old servitor hovered anxiously in the offing, a 
pallor in his humble, intelligent face, a troubled eye on 
his master’s form in the dim shadow of the book-lined 
room. He turned a deprecatory glance on Anne Truesdale, 
as he entered with two bags, a shiny suitcase, a hat-box, 
a tennis-racket, and a bag of golf-sticks, looking for an 
unobtrusive corner in which to deposit them and thereby 
stop the noisy young tongue which seemed to him to be 
committing irretrievable indignities to the very atmosphere 
of the beloved old house. 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


33 


“ Take them out, Joe,” said Anne Truesdale in her 
quiet voice of command. 

“ No, you shan’t take them out! ” screamed Athalie, 
stamping her heavy young foot indignantly. “ I want 
them here! Put them right down there! She has nothing 
to say about it! ” 

Joe vibrated from the library to the hall and back 
again uncertainly and looked pitifully toward his master. 

“ Put the things in the hall, Joe, and then go out and 
shut the door! ” ordered the master with something in his 
controlled voice that caused his daughter to look at him 
with surprise. Joe obeyed, Anne Truesdale thankfully 
melted away, and Patterson Greeves found himself in 
the library alone with his child. 

Athalie faced him with storm in her face. 

“I think you are a perfectly horrid old thing!” she 
declared hysterically with a look in her eyes that at once 
reminded him of her mother. “ I said I wanted those 
things in here and I’m going to have them! I guess they 
are my things, aren’t they? ” She faced him a second 
defiantly and then opened the door swiftly, thereby caus¬ 
ing a scuttling sound in the back hall near the kitchen 
entrance. Vehemently she recovered her property, bang¬ 
ing each piece down with unnecessary force and slamming 
the door shut with a comical grimace of triumph toward 
the departed servants. 

“ Now, we’re ready to talk! ” she declared, with sud¬ 
denly returning good humor, as she dropped to the edge 
of a large leather chair and faced her father again. 

Patterson Greeves was terribly shaken and furiously 
angry, yet he realized fully that he had the worst of 
the argument with this child as he had nearly always had 
with her mother, and he felt the utter futility of attempt- 

3 


34 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


ing further discipline until he had a better grasp of the 
situation. As he sat in his uncle’s comfortable leather 
chair, entrenched as it were in this fine old dignified castle, 
it seemed absurd that a mere child could rout him, could 
so put his courage to flight and torment his quiet world. 
He turned his attention upon her as he might have turned 
it upon some new specimen of viper that had crossed his 
path and become annoying; and once having looked, he 
stared and studied her again. 

There was no denying that Athalie Greeves was pretty 
so far as the modern world counts prettiness. Some of 
the girls in her set called her “ simply stunning/’ and the 
young men with whom she was contemporary called her 
a “ winner.” She was fair and fat and fourteen with 
handsome teeth and large, bold, dark eyes. But the lips 
around the teeth were too red, and the lashes around the 
eyes overladen, I might almost have said beaded. Her 
fairness had been accentuated to the point of ghastliness, 
with a hectic point in each cheek which gave her the appear¬ 
ance of an amateur pastel portrait. 

She wore a cloth suit of bright tan, absurdly short and 
narrow for her size. A dashing little jade-green suede 
hat beaded in black and white sat jauntily on a bushy head 
of bobbed and extraordinarily electrified black hair, and 
whatever kind of eyebrows she had possessed had been 
effectually plucked and obliterated, their substitutes being 
so finely pencilled and so far up under the overshadowing 
hat-brim as to be practically out of the running. She 
wore flesh-colored silk stockings and tall, unbuckled, flap¬ 
ping galoshes with astrakhan tops, out of which her plump 
silken ankles rose sturdily. Her father sat and stared at 
her for a full minute. No biological specimen had ever 
so startled or puzzled him. Was this then his child ? His 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 35 

and Lilia’s? How unexpected! How impossible! How 
terrible! 

It wasn’t as if she were just Lilia, made young again, 
pretty and wily and sly, with a delicate feminine charm 
and an underlying falseness. That was what he had ex¬ 
pected. That was what he was prepared for. That he could 
have borne. But this creature was gross—coarse—openly 
brazen, almost as if she had reverted to primeval type, 
and yet—vile thought! he could see all the worst traits 
of himself stamped upon that plump, painted young face. 

Athalie gave a self-conscious tilt to her head and 
enquired in a preening voice: 

“ Well, how do you like me? ” 

The man started, an unconscious moan coming to his 
lips, and dropped his head into his hands; then swung 
himself up angrily and strode back and forth across the 
far end of the room, glaring at her as he walked and 
making no reply. It was obvious that he was forcing 
himself to study her in detail, and as his eyes dropped to 
her feet he paused in front of her and enquired harshly: 

“ Haven’t you any—any hosiery? ” 

Perhaps the good attendant angels smothered a hysteri¬ 
cal laugh, but Athalie, quite wrought upon in her nerves 
by this time and not a little hurt, stretched out a plump 
silken limb indignantly. 

“ I should like to know what fault you have to find 
with my stockings?” she blazed angrily. “They cost 
four dollars and a half a pair and are imported, with hand- 
embroidered clocks—” 

He looked down at the smooth silk ankles helplessly. 

“You are too stout to wear things like that!” he 
said coldly, and let his glance travel up again to her face. 


36 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


“ How did they let you get so stout anyway ? It can’t 
be natural at your age! ” 

The full painted lips trembled for an instant and real 
red flared under the powder of the cheek, then she gave 
her head a haughty toss. 

“ You aren’t very polite, are you? Lilia said I’d find 
you that way, but I thought maybe you had changed since 
she saw you. She told me—” 

“ You needn’t trouble to mention anything that your 
mother said about me. I shouldn’t care to hear it,” he 
said coldly. 

“ Well, Lilia’s my mother, if I have come to live with 
you, and I shall mention what I like. You can’t stop me! ” 

There was defiance in the tone and in her glance that 
swept remindingly toward the pile of luggage at her feet, 
and he veered away from another encounter. 

“ Do you always call your mother by her first name ? 
It doesn’t sound very respectful.” 

“Oh, bother respect! Why should I respect her? Cer¬ 
tainly, I call her Lilia! I had it in mind to call you Pat too, 
if I liked you well enough, but if you keep on like this 
I’ll call you Old Greeves! So there! Oh, heck! This 
isn’t beginning very well—” she pouted, “ Let’s start over 
again. Here Pat, let’s sit down and be real friendly. Have 
a cigarette? ” and she held forth a gay little gold case with 
a delightfully friendly woman-of-the-world air, much 
as her mother might have done. As she stood thus poised 
with the golden bauble held in her exquisitely manicured 
rose-leaf hands she seemed the epitome of all that was 
insolent and sensual to her horrified and disgusted father. 
He felt like striking her down. He wanted to curse her 
mother for allowing her to grow up into this, but most 
of all he felt a loathing for himself that he had made him¬ 
self responsible for this abnormal specimen of womanhood. 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


37 


Scarcely more than a child and yet wearing the charm of 
the serpent with ease. 

Then suddenly the shades of all the Silvers looking 
down upon him from the painted canvasses on the wall, 
the sweetly highborn gentlewomen and gentlemen of 
strong, fine character, seemed to rise in audience on the 
scene and bring him back to the things he had been taught 
and had always deep down in his heart believed, no matter 
how far he had wandered from their practice. And here 
was this child, scarcely turned toward womanhood, daring 
to offer her father a cigarette, daring to strike a match 
pertly and light one for herself; here in this old Silver 
house, where grandmothers of four generations had been 
ladies , and where dear Aunt Lavinia had taught him his 
golden texts every Sunday morning—taught him about 
purity and righteousness. Oh! it was all her sweet, blind 
innocence—her ignorance of the world, of course, yet 
sweet and wonderful. And to have this child —his child 
transgressing the old order in her playful, brazen way! 
It was too terrible! His child! Flesh of his flesh! 

“ Athalie! ” 

“ Oh, don’t you smokef I thought all real men smoked. 
Lilia said ”—she pursed her lips and lifted her cigarette 
prettily. 

“ Athalie!” he thundered, “Never mind what your 
mother said! Don’t you dare to smoke in this house! 
Don’t you ever let me see you—” 

“ Oh, very well! Shall I go outside ? Perhaps you’ll 
take a little walk down the street with me—” 

The child was roused. There were sparks in her dark 
eyes. She looked very much like the old Lilia he knew so 
well. This was not the way to handle her. He was bun¬ 
gling everything. What should he do ? He must establish 
his authority. The court had handed her over to his charge. 


38 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


What a mistake! He should have had her when she was 
young if he was ever to hope to do anything with her. But 
he must do something. He reached out a sudden hand and 
took possession of the cigarette and case before the sur¬ 
prised girl had time to protest. 

“ Those are not fit things for a young girl to have/’ he 
said sternly. “ While you are under my protection it must 
not happen again. Do you understand ? ” 

She pouted. 

“ You wouldn’t talk! ” 

“ I can’t talk to you while you look like that,” he said 
with a note of desperation in his voice, “ Go upstairs and 
wash your face. And haven’t you got some less outlandish 
clothes? You look like a circus child. I’m ashamed to 
look at you! ” 

He stepped to the wall and rang a bell while Athalie, 
after staring at him in utter dismay burst into sudden and 
appalling tears. Almost simultaneously Anne Truesdale 
appeared at the door with a white, frightened face looking 
from one to the other. Patterson Greeves registered a dis¬ 
tinct wish that a portion of the floor might open and 
swallow him forever, but he endeavored to face the situa¬ 
tion like a Silver and a master in his own house. 

“ This is my daughter Athalie, Mrs. Truesdale, and 
she wishes to wash her face and change her apparel. Will 
you kindly show her to a room and see that her bags are 
brought up and that she has everything she needs? I 
did not expect her to arrive so soon or I would have given 
you warning. It was my intention to keep her in school—” 

“ Oh-h-h-h! ” moaned Athalie into a scrap of a green 
and black bordered handkerchief—“ O—hhhhh! ” 

Anne Truesdale looked at the plump tailored shoulders 
as she might have looked at a stray cat whom she was 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


39 


told to put out of the room, and then rose to the occasion. 
She slid a firm but polite arm around the reluctant guest 
and drew her from the room, and Patterson Greeves shut 
the library door and dropped with a groan into his chair, 
burying his face in his hands and wishing he had never 
been born. Somehow the sight of his daughter weeping, 
with her foolish frizzled hair and her fat, flesh-colored 
silk legs in their flapping galoshes, being led away by 
“ Trudie,” as he always used to call the housekeeper, 
made him suddenly recognize her species. She was a 
.flapper! The most despicable thing known to girlhood,J 
^according to his bred and inherited standards. The thing 
that all the newspapers and magazines held in scorn and 
dread; the thing that all noted people were writing about 
and trying to eradicate; the thing they were afraid of 
and bowed to, and let be; and his child was a flapper! 

Just as after long and careful study a new specimen 
would at last unexpectedly reveal some trait by which 
he could place it, so now his child had shown forth her 
true character. 

It was terrible enough to acknowledge; it was easy 
enough to understand how it had come about; but the 
thing to consider was, what was he going to do about it ? 
How could he do anything? It was too late! And God 
thought men would believe in Him when He let things 
like this happen! Somehow all his bitterness of the years 
seemed to have focussed on this one morning. All that 
he called in scorn the “ outraged faith of his childhood ” 
seemed to rise and protest against his fate, proving that 
he still had some faith lurking in his soul, else how could 
he blame a God who did not exist ? 

He rose and paced his study back and forth, dashing 
his rumpled hair from his forehead, glaring about on the 


40 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


familiar old room that had always spoken to him of things 
righteous and orderly, as if in some way it too, with God, 
were to blame for what had befallen him. He had taken 
perhaps three turns back and forth in his wrath and 
perplexity when he was aware that a light tapping on 
the door had been going on for perhaps several seconds. 
He swung to the door and jerked it angrily open. Had 
that girl concluded her toilet so soon, before he had thought 
what to do about her? Well, he would tell her exactly 
what she was, what a disgrace to a fine old family; what 
a—mistake—what a—! 

In the hall stood Anne Truesdale with deprecatory 
air, her fingers working nervously with the corner of 
her apron, which she held as if to keep her balance. Her 
beloved Master Pat had turned into an inscrutable old 
ogre whom she loved, but scarcely dared to brave. She 
felt assured, in view of the modern young specimen up¬ 
stairs, that he had reason to be in this mood, and she but 
adored and feared him the more, after the old-fashioned 
feminine way, that he had it in him to storm around in 
this fashion; but she was frightened to death to have 
to deal with him while it lasted. Behind her, smiling 
quite assured, and splendid to look upon this morning with 
the soot washed from his face, and his big body attired 
fittingly, stood the minister, a book in his hand and a 
look of pleasant anticipation in his face. 

Then Patterson Greeves remembered as in a dream 
of something far past that he had invited the minister to 
take a hike with him this morning and afterwards lunch 
with him. The boy Blink was to have gone along. How 
fair and innocent the prospect compared to what had 
now befallen him! He looked as one who was about to 
tear his hair, so helpless and tragic his eyes. 


IV 


“Oh! It’s you!” There was at least a wistfulness 
in his tone. 

“ Good morning! ” said the minister. “ Am I—? Per¬ 
haps our plans are not convenient for you this morning—?” 

“ Oh! ” said Patterson Greeves stupidly, as if he had 
just remembered. 

“You look done out, man! Is anything the matter? 
Can I help? If not, sha’n’t I just leave this book I 
promised and run along till another time? ” 

“ No. Come in! ” said Patterson Greeves with a 
desperate look in his face. “ You’re a minister! It’s your 
business to help people in trouble. I’m in the deuce of a 
mess and no mistake. You can’t help me out. Nobody 
can. But it would afford me some satisfaction to ask you 
how the devil you can go around preaching the love of 
God when He allows such Satanic curses to fall on men ? ” 

Bannard gave him a quick, keen glance, and set his 
clean-shaven' lips in a firm line as he threw his hat on the 
hall console and stepped inside the door. 

Anne Truesdale retreated hastily to the pantry and 
paused to wipe a frightened tear from her white cheek. 
The other servants must not suspect what had befallen 
the master. Was this then the secret of the sadness of 
his face, that he had forsaken the faith of his fathers 
and taken to cursing and swearing. It made her shiver 
even yet to remember how familiarly he had spoken of 
the devil. Dear old Mr. Standish Silver! It was well 
he was not present to be grieved! And little pretty Miss 
Lavinia! If she had heard her darling’s voice talking 
that way about her heavenly Father it would have killed 

41 


42 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


her outright! Just have killed her outright! Oh, it was 
sad times, and the world a growing weary instead of 
bright. And she so glad but the day before that Master 
Pat was coming home! Poor Master Pat! She must 
order waffles for lunch. He was always so fond of them. 
She must do all in her power to win him back to right 
living. It must have been that awful war! They said 
some of the officers were that careless! And of course 
he'd been a long time away from home. Poor Master Pat! 
She must pray for him humbly. There was no one else 
left to do it. That was what Miss Lavinia would have 
done, crept to her old padded wing-chair and knelt long 
with the shades drawn. So she always did when Master 
Pat was a boy and did wrong. There was the time when 
he told his first lie. How she minded that day. Miss 
( Lavinia ate nothing for a whole four and twenty hours, 
just fasted and prayed. 

She too would fast, and would go to Miss Lavinia's 
room and the old wing-chair, and draw the shades and 
lock the door, and pray for the master! Perhaps if she 
fasted, humble though she was, her prayer might be heard 
and answered. She would ask for the sake of Miss Lavinia 
and his uncle Silver. They had always stood well with 
Heaven. They must be beloved of the Lord. It would 
be terrible to have their nephew come out an unbeliever 
in these days of unbelief. The family must not be dis¬ 
graced. But she must not let the servants know that she 
was fasting. They must not find that aught was amiss 
with the master. Surely the Lord would hear and all 
might yet be well in spite of the awful young woman that 
had arrived, apparently to remain. 

So she scuttled away to Miss Lavinia’s sunny south 
bedroom and locked the door. 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


43 


Downstairs Patterson Greeves gave his guest a chair 
and began to pour out invectives against God. 

Bannard listened a moment, head up, a startled, search¬ 
ing, almost pitying look in his eyes, then he arose with 
an air of decision. 

“ Look here, Greeves, you can't expect me to sit quietly 
and listen while you abuse my best Friend! I can’t do 
it! ” and he turned sharply toward the door. 

Patterson Greeves stared at his guest with surprise 
and a growing sanity and apology in his eyes. 

“ I beg your pardon,” he said brusquely. “ I suppose 
God must be that to you or you wouldn’t be in the business 
you are. I hadn’t realized that there was anybody with an 
education left on earth that still felt that way, but you look 
like an honest man. Sit down and tell me how on earth you 
reconcile this hell we live in with a loving and kindly 
Supreme Being.” 

“You don’t look as if you were in the mood for a 
discussion on theology to do you any good now,” answered 
the younger man quietly, “ I would rather wait until 
another time for a talk like that. Is there anything I 
can do for you, friend, or would you rather I got out 
of your way just now? ” 

“ No, stay if you don’t mind my ravings. I have an 
idea you’d be a pretty good friend to have and I’ve been 
hard hit. The fact is, I suppose I’ve been a good deal of 
a fool! I married again. A woman who was utterly sel¬ 
fish and unprincipled. We’ve been divorced for years. 
Now suddenly our daughter is thrust back upon me, a 
decree of the court I’d utterly forgotten! She arrived 
without warning and she’s the most impossible specimen 
of young womanhood I’ve ever come across—! If a 


44 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


loving God could ever—! What are you smiling about 
man ? It’s no joke I’m telling you— 1 ” 

“ I was thinking how much you remind me of a man 
I have been reading about in the Bible. Jehoram is his 
name. Ever make his acquaintance ? ” 

“Not especially,” answered Greeves coldly, with evi¬ 
dent annoyance at the digression. “ He was one of those 
old Israelitish kings, wasn’t he ? ” 

“ Yes, a king, but he blamed God for the results of 
his own action.” 

“ Mm! Yes. I see! But how am I to blame for hav¬ 
ing a daughter like that? Didn’t God make her what 
she is? Why couldn’t she have been the right kind of a 
girl ? How was I to blame for that ? ” 

v“ You married a woman whom you described as utterly 
selfish and unprincipled, didn’t you? You left the child 
in her keeping during these first formative years. What 
else could you expect but that she would be brought up 
in a way displeasing to yourself ? ” 

The scientist took three impatient turns up and down 
the room before he attempted to answer. 

“ Man! How could I know ? Such a thing wasn’t 
in my thoughts—! I insist it was a dastardly thing to 
wreak vengeance on me in this way. No, you can’t con¬ 
vince me. This thing came from your God—if there is 
such a being. I’ve been watching and waiting through 
the years for a turn in my luck to prove that the God 
I’d been taught loved me had any thought toward me. 
But this is too much. Why should I wait any longer? 
I know! God, if there is a God, is a God of hate rather 
than love.” 

“ Jehoram’s exact words,” said the minister. “ ‘ This 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 45 

evil is of the Lord. Why should I wait for the Lord 
any longer? ’ ” 

“ Exactly! ” said Greeves. “ Don’t you see? Jehoram 
was a wise man. I respect him.” 

“ But he found he was mistaken, you know. Wait 
till ‘ tomorrow about this time ’ and perhaps you too will 
find it out. Hod’s purposes always work out—” 

Patterson Greeves wheeled and looked sharply at his 
visitor. “ What do you mean, 4 tomorrow about this 
time’?” 

“ Go read the story of Jehoram and you’ll understand. 
The city was in a state of siege. The people were starving; 
crazed by hunger, were eating their own children, and 
appealing to the king to settle their demoniacal quarrels. 
The king w r as blaming God for it all, and suddenly Jhe 
prophet appeared and told him that ‘tomorrow about this 
time’ there would be plenty to eat and cheap enough for 
everybody. How do you know but tomorrow about this 
time God may have relief and joy all planned and on 
the way ? ” 

Greeves turned away impatiently and began his angry 
pacing of the room again. 

“ Oh, that’s the kind of idealism you were prating 
about last night with your dreams that God was working 
out His purposes for the laboring classes and all that bosh! 
Excuse me, but I don’t believe any such rot any more for 
the classes or the nations than I do for the individual. Take 
myself for instance. If I don’t send off a letter I just wrote 
to stop it, by tomorrow about this time I may have a worse 
mess on my hands than I have now. I tell you your God 
has it in for me! I didn’t tell you I had another daughter, 
did I? Well, I have, and she’s taken it into her head to 
come here also. Here! Read this letter! ” 


46 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


He caught up Silver’s letter and thrust it into the 
young man’s hand. The minister glanced at the clear 
handwriting, caught the words “ Dear Father,” and 
pressed it back upon Greeves. 

“ I oughtn’t to read this! ” he said earnestly. 

“ Yes! Read! ” commanded the older man. “ I want 
you to know the situation. Then perhaps you’ll under¬ 
stand my position. I’d like to have one person in the 
town who understands.” 

Bannard glanced through the lines with apology and 
deference in his eyes. 

“ This is no letter to be ashamed of l ” he exclaimed 
as he read. “ This girl had a good mother. I’m sure 1 Or a 
good grandmother, anyway! ” 

Greeves stopped suddenly by the window, staring out 
with unseeing eyes, and his voice was husky with feeling 
when he spoke, after an instant of silence. 

“ She had the best grandmother in the world I think 
—but—her mother was wonderful! ” There was rever¬ 
ence and heart-break in the tones. 

“ Ah! ” said the minister earnestly. “ Then she will 
be like her mother! ” 

“ I could not hear it —if she were like her mother! ” 
breathed the man at the window with a voice almost like 
a sob, and flung himself away from the light, pacing 
excitedly back to the shadowed end of the room. 

“ But you say you have written her not to come? ” in¬ 
terrupted the minister suddenly, glancing thoughtfully at 
the missive in his hand. “ Why did you do that ? I should 
think from the letter she might be a great help. Why not 
let her come ? ” 

The father wheeled sharply again, kicking a corner of 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


47 


the rug that almost tripped him as if it had personality 
and were interfering with his transit. 

“ Let her come! Let her come here and meet that 
other girl? Not on any account. I— could not bear it!” 

Again that tortured wistfulness in his voice like a 
half sob. 

The minister watched him curiously with a sorrow^ 
ful glance at the letter in his hand. 

“ I don’t quite see— how you can bear not to!” he 
said slowly. “ After reading that appeal for your love—! ” 

“ Appeal ? What appeal ? I don’t know what you 
mean? ” 

He caught the letter hurriedly and dashed himself 
into his desk chair with a deep sigh, beginning to read 
with hurried, feverish eyes. 

“ Man! I didn’t read all this before! I was so upset! 
And then the other girl came! ” 

There was silence for an instant while he read. Then 
his eyes lifted with a look of almost fear in them. 

“ Man alive! ” he gasped, “ she’s coming this morning! 
My letter will be too late! ” He caught up the envelope 
he had so recently addressed and looked at it savagely as 
if somehow it were to blame. “ Too late! ” He flung it 
angrily on the floor, where it slid under the edge of the 
desk and lay. The tortured man jerked himself out of his 
chair again and began his walk up and down. 

“ What shall I do? You’re a minister. You ought 
to know. She’s on her way now. She’ll be here in a 
few minutes and I can’t have her. She mustn’t meet 
that other girl! I can’t have Alice’s child see her! What 
would you do ? Oh, why did God let all this situation come 
about? ” He wheeled impatiently and stamped off again. 

“I’ll have to get the other one off to school some- 


48 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


where, I suppose. You wouldn’t be willing to meet that 
train and say I was called away, would you ? Get her to 
go to a hotel in the city somewhere and wait ? I could hire 
an automobile and take Athalie away. Perhaps there’s a 
school near her old home. Wait! I know a woman on 
the Hudson—I wonder—‘ Give me long distance, cen¬ 
tral’.” He caught up the phone and began to tap the 
floor with his foot, glancing anxiously toward the clock 
that was giving a warning whirr preparatory to striking. 
“ What time does that train get in, Bannard ? Have you 
a time-table ? ” 

Bannard glanced at the clock. 

“ Why! You haven’t much time,” he said in a startled 
tone. “ It gets here at eleven ten. Would you like my 
car ? ” He stepped to the window, glanced out, gave a 
long, low musical whistle, and in a moment Blink 
appeared, darting up the front walk warily, with eyes on 
the front window. 

The minister leaned out of the window and called: 

“ Blink, can you get my car here from the garage in 
five minutes ? I want to meet that train.” 

Blink murmured a nonchalant “ Sure! ” and was gone. 
The minister turned back to the frantic father, who was 
foaming angrily at the telephone-operator and demand¬ 
ing better service. 

“ Mr. Greeves,” he said placing his hand on the other’s 
arm affectionately, “ my car will be here in a moment. I 
think you had better take it and meet your daughter. It will 
be embarrassing for her to have to meet a stranger—” 

Patterson Greeves shook his head angrily. 

“ No, no! I can’t meet her! I can’t help it! She’ll 
have to be embarrassed then. She got up the whole trouble 
by coming, didn’t she ? Well, she’ll have to take the conse- 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


49 


quences. I have to stay here and get this other one off 
somewhere. I’ll send her back to her mother if I can’t 
do anything else! I won’t be tormented this way. I know. 
You’re thinking this is no way for a father to act, but 
I’m not a father! I’ve never had the privileges of a father 
and I don’t intend to begin now. If my wife had lived 
it would have been different—! But she had to be taken 
away—! ‘ Central! Central! Can’t you give me long 
distance? ’ ” 

He set the instrument jiggling snappily, and down 
the long flight of polished mahogany stairs heavy, reluctant 
footsteps could be heard approaching. 

Patterson Greeves hung up the receiver with a click 
and wheeled about in his chair with an ashen look, 
listening. 

“ She’s coming now! ” he exclaimed nervously. “ I’ll 
have to do something. Bannard, if you’d just take that 
car of yours and go meet that train, I’ll be everlastingly 
obliged to you. If you don’t want to do it, let her get 
here the best way she can. It will give us that much 
more time. I’ve got to do something with Athalie at 
once—! ” He arose and went anxiously toward the door, 
opening it a crack and listening. The steps came on, slowly, 
and yet more slowly. The minister pitied his new friend 
from the bottom of his heart, and yet there was a humor¬ 
ous side to the situation. To think of a man of this one’s 
attainments and standing being afraid of a mere girl, 
afraid of two girls! His own children! It was a simple 
matter, of course, to meet a train and tell the girl her 
father had been occupied for the time. The car slid 
briskly up to the curb in the street on time to the dot, and 
the minister turned pleasantly and picked up his hat. 

4 


50 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


“ I’ll go. Certainly. What do you wish me to say 
to her? ” 

“ Oh! Nothing. Anything! You’ll have to bring her 
here I suppose! Make it as long a trip as possible, won’t 
you ? I’ll try to clear the coast somehow—! ” He glanced 
down at the huddled baggage of his younger daughter 
with a troubled frown. ” There’s a carriage here—The 
servants will—Well, I’ll see what can be done. You better 
go quickly please! ” He looked nervously toward the door, 
and Bannard opened it and hurried out to his car, 
Athalie entering almost as he left, her eyes upon the 
departing visitor. 

“Who was that stunning-looking man, dad? Why 
didn’t you introduce me? You could just as well as not, 
and I don’t want to waste any time getting to know people. 
It’s horribly dull in a new place till you know everybody.” 


V 


Athalie entered with nonchalance and no sign of the 
recent tears. Her face had perhaps been washed and a 
portion of her complexion removed, but she still had a vivid 
look and her hair was more startling than ever, now that 
her rakish hat was removed. It stood out in a fluffy puff¬ 
ball like a dandelion gone to seed, and gave her an amaz¬ 
ing appearance. Her father stared at her with a fas¬ 
cinated horror and was speechless. 

She had changed her travelling frock for an accordion- 
pleated affair of soft jade-green silk with an expansive 
neck-line and sleeves that were slit several times from 
wrist to shoulder and swung jauntily in festoon-like ser¬ 
pentine curves around and among her plump pink arms. 
She had compromised on a pair of black chiffon-silk stock¬ 
ings with openwork clocking and black satin sandals with 
glittering little rhinestone clasps. A platinum wrist- 
watch and a glitter of jewels attended every movement 
of her plump pink hands with their pointed sea-shell finger¬ 
tips, and a long string of carved ivory beads swung down¬ 
ward from her neck and mingled with the clutter of a 
clattering, noisy little girdle. No wonder he stared. And 
she had done all that amazing toilet while he was talking 
with the minister. 

He stared, and her dimples began to come with re¬ 
minder of her mother in the old luring way, filling him 
with pain and anger and a worse than helplessness. Her 
mother’s face was not so fat as hers, but the dimples went 
and came with such familiar play! 

“ Dad, you needn't think you can keep me shut up 
away from things," she said archly. “ I'm going to know^- 


51 


52 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


all your men friends and be real chummy with them. The 
men always like me. I’m like Lilia in that! They bring 
me stacks of presents and slews of chocolates. I’ve got 
a lot of going-away boxes in my trunks. Some of them 
are jimdandies. This watch is a present from Bobs. You 
know who Bobs is, don’t you? Bobs Farrell. He was 
dead gone on Lilia. He gave me this watch on my last 
birthday. It’s platinum and diamonds. Isn’t it great? 
He brought me out in his car this morning or I would have 
had to wait two hours. When I found out what time 
this little old train started, I just called up his apartment 
and he came right down and got me and took me up to his 
place for breakfast. He has the darlingest apartments all 
by himself with a Japanese man to wait on him, and the 
most adorable cooking! And he’s going to have a theatre 
party for me some night with a dinner afterward at his 
apartment. Won’t that be simply great? I’m to ask 
any two girls from school I like, and he will get the men. 
And by the way, Daddy, I’ve invited a house-party for 
the first week in June. You don’t mind, do you? There 
are ten of the girls in my class and I’ve promised them 
the time of their life. The fellows won’t be here only at 
the week-end. They have to be back at prep. Monday 
morning. Their old school doesn't close for two weeks 
after ours.” 

His most amazing child had rattled on without let-up 
thus far, and this was the first period he had been able 
to grasp. He hastened to avail himself of it, meanwhile 
glancing nervously at the clock. 

“School! Yes. School! May I ask why you are 
not in school yourself? ” 

“ Oh! ” she wreathed the dimples coquettishly around 
her red lips, “ why! didn’t you know I had been fired! ” 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


53 


She dimpled charmingly as though it were something to be 
proud about. “I suppose Lilia didn’t tell you because she 
was afraid you’d be shocked, but you might as well know 
all about it at the start. It saves misunderstandings. You 
see, we had a pajama party! ” 

“ A pajama party! ” cried the horrified father. 

“ O, now, daddy Pat! You needn’t pull a long face 
and make out you never did such things. You know you 
had gay times when you went to school, and you can’t 
be young but once. There isn’t anything so terrible in 
a pajama party! You see the whole trouble was I got 
caught out on the fire-escape in mine and all the rest got 
away, so I had to be fired, but it was fun. I don’t care. 
I’d be fired over again just to see how Guzzy Foster, that’s 
the math, prof., looked when that ice and salt went down 
his back. You see it was this way. One of the girls 
had a dandy box from home, and she happened to tell 
one of the boys from the military prep, that she had it, 
and he coaxed to get some of the things. So May Beth 
told him if he and some of his friends would come under 
the fire-escape at exactly midnight she’d drop down a box 
of cake for them. Well, everything went all right till the 
party was almost over and the girls had eaten all they could 
stuff, and they had the box for the boys all packed and I 
was to go out and throw it down to them because May 
Beth had an awful cold and her pajamas were just thin 
crepe de Chine and she was all of a shiver anyway from 
eating so much cold ice cream. So I said I didn’t mind 
even if it was cold. I thought it would be fun, and I went 
out with the box and whistled softly for the boys, and 
they answered once, and then, it was all very still. It was 
moonlight and I could see them lined up among the bushes 
on the campus. I swung the box over the railing and 


54 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


whispered, “ Here she comes/’ and just as I did it I some¬ 
how caught my toe in the burlap that came off the ice¬ 
cream freezer—I had on Tillie Irvin’s pink satin mules 
with forget-me-nots on them, and she was sore as a boil 
at me about that too—and then before I knew what was 
happening, I somehow hit the ice-cream freezer and 
knocked it over, and slosh! out went all the sloppy ice and 
salt water through the iron grating of the fire-escape, 
and I looked down and there was Guzzy Foster—he and 
his wife have their apartment right under my room, and 
we thought they were away for the week-end, that’s why 
we chose my room for the party—he was just inside his 
window with his head stuck out of an old red bath robe 
looking up—the old ferret. He was always snooping 
round to stop any fun that was going—and he caught the 
whole stream of icy salt water full in his face and down 
his old mathematical back, and I hope he gets pneumonia 
from it. He’s the limit! Well, I heard him gasp and 
splutter, and draw in his head, and I heard the boys snicker 
down in the bushes and scatter out to the street—they 
got the cake all right. I called one of ’em up on the phone 
at the station before I left and found out-—and I just 
danced up and down in those pink satin mules with the 
forget-me-nots and howled for a minute, it was so funny. 
And then all of a sudden I realized it had got very still 
behind me and I looked in the window and the lights were 
out. There wasn’t a sound of a girl to be heard, and down 
the hall I could hear hard steps that sounded like Mrs. 
Foster, so I tried to get in the window, but it was fastened! 
Babe Heath did that because she thought if the window 
was locked they wouldn’t think to look out. But there 
was I in thin china-silk pajamas and the wind blowing up 
from the river like ice! It was grand skating the next 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


55 


day, so you may know it was pretty fierce! But I stuck 
it out till she found me, and they fired me so quick Lilia 
didn’t have a chance to come and see what was the matter. 
They just sent me home that night in charge of Guzzy 
Foster himself. His name’s Augustus Charles, but we call 
him Guzzy and I had a horrid, horrid time, so it’s up to 
you to be good to me! ” 

Patterson Greeves gasped, and grasped the arms of 
the big chair into which he had dropped as Athalie entered, 
looking at his child in abject helplessness. 

The distant sound of an approaching train stirred him 
to nervous action once more. 

“ I certainly cannot approve of your outrageous con¬ 
duct,” he began, in a tone such as he might have used in 
his classroom. “ It was inexcusable, impossible, in¬ 
decent—! I cannot think how a girl could bring herself 
to so demean herself. And the first thing you must do will 
be to write a humble acknowledgment and apology to the 
principal of the institution and promise that for the future 
your conduct shall be irreproachable. I twill see at once 
about your reinstatement, and I cannot countenance in 
future any disregard of the rules of the school or of the 
rules of good breeding.” 

But the girl broke in with a boisterous laugh: 

“What’s that you say? Me go back to that school? 
Well, I guess anyhow not. Not on your life, I don't! You 
couldn’t drag me within sight of the old dump. I’m done 
with it forever, and I’ll tell the world I'm glad! Why? 
Don’t you like me ? Doesn’t this dress suit you any better ? 
I’ve got some stunners in my trunks. When do you think 
they will bring them out from the city? Can’t we get a 
car and go after them? I’m just dying to show you some 


56 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


of my things, and the big portrait of Lilia she had taken 
for the General—! ” 

Greeves arose, white and angry. 

“ Get on your things at once! ” he almost shouted. 
“ We are going back to your school. It is impossible for 
you to stay here. I am a very busy man. I have impor¬ 
tant work to do.” He glanced wildly at his watch, and 
then gave a quick look out of the window as he strode to 
the bell and touched it, flinging open the hall door and 
looking up the stairs. 

“ But I am not going back to school! ” declared Athalie 
with a black look. “I’m going to stay right here! I won’t 
be the least trouble in the world. I’ll have my friends, 
and you can have yours. I’ll go my way, and you can go 
yours. That’s the way Lilia and I always did. Only, 
Daddy Pat, have we got to have that old limb of a house¬ 
keeper around? I hate her! I couldn’t get on with her 
a day. I’m sure I’d shock her. She’s a pie-faced hypo¬ 
crite and you’d better fire her. I’ll run the house. I know 
how! Daddy Pat—may I call you Patf ” 

“No! ” thundered the scientist. “ You may not. You 
may say ‘ Father ’ if it’s necessary to call me anything! ” 
He glared at her. “ And you may go to your room at once 
and stay there until I send for you! ” he added suddenly, 
as he glanced once more out of the window and saw an 
automobile draw up before the door. Then both of them 
became aware that Anne Truesdale stood in the open door, 
her face as white as her starched apron, a look of consterna¬ 
tion upon her meek face and her hands clasped nervously 
at her belt. 


VI 


It had not occurred to the minister until he came within 
sight of the station and heard the whistle of the approach¬ 
ing train, that he had come on a most embarrassing errand. 

It had appeared to him as he talked with her father 
and read her letter that the girl he was about to escort to 
her home might be anywhere between twelve and fifteen 
years old. His information concerning Patterson Greeves’ 
history had been vague and incomplete. He looked to be 
a young man for all this experience, and the minister had 
jumped to the conclusion that both girls were quite young. 

But when the train drew up at the station and the 
only stranger who got out proved to be a lovely young- 
woman dressed with quiet but exquisite taste and with an 
air of sweet sophistication, he became suddenly aware 
that the errand he had come upon was one of an exceedingly 
delicate nature and he wished with all his soul he had not 
undertaken it. 

She carried a small suitcase in her hand and walked 
with an air of knowing exactly where she was going. 
She paused only an instant to glance about her and then 
went straight to the station waiting-room and checked her 
suitcase. She did it with so much apparent forethought 
as if she had been there before and knew exactly what 
she had to do, that the young man hesitated and looked 
about for a possible other arrival who might be the girl 
he came to meet. But the train snorted and puffed its way 
slowly into motion and started on, and no other passengers 
appeared. As she turned away from the checking desk he 
came hesitantly upon her and their eyes met. 

She was slight and small with a well formed head 

57 


58 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


poised alertly, and delicate features that gave one the 
sense of being moulded and used by a spirit alive to more 
than the things of this earth. The impression was so 
strong that he hesitated, with hat lifted in the very act 
of introducing himself, to look again with startled direct¬ 
ness into a face that was so exactly a counterpart of what 
he had dreamed a girl some day might be that he had the 
feeling of having been thrust with appalling unreadiness 
into her presence to whom he would have willed to come 
with his soul newly shriven. 

She had violet eyes with a frank clear glance, hair that 
curled naturally and frilled about her face catching the 
sunbeams, lips that curved sweetly but firmly, and the 
complexion of a wild rose newly washed in dew. She 
looked like a spirit flower that yet was entirely able to take 
care of herself on earth. 

“ Is this—” he hesitated and remembered that he 
did not know her name—finishing lamely “ Mr. Greeves’ 
daughter? ” 

She lifted her eyes, with a quick searching look and 
smiled: 

“You are not—You could not be—my father.” 

Bannard smiled. 

“No, I have not that honor. Your father is—” he 
hesitated again. Why hadn’t he thought up some excuse 
for the father who was not there? It seemed inexcusable 
now that he saw the daughter, not to meet such a daughter! 
“ Your father is—importantly engaged! He has but just 
arrived himself! ” 

He felt he was doing better. 

“ He only had opportunity to read your letter a few 
minutes ago, and it was impossible for him to get to the 
train. He asked me to meet you—” 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


59 


She smiled with a rich warm welcome for her father’s 
friend and he felt a glow of comfort. 

“ My name is Bannard,” he finished, “ I hope we’re 
to be friends also.” He put out his hand and she took 
it graciously and thanked him. 

He piloted her to his car and helped her in, then 
hesitated: 

“Your baggage? Didn’t I see you check a suitcase? 
Wouldn’t you like me to get it? ” 

A soft rose bloomed out in the girl’s cheeks and the 
fringes drooped deeply over her cheeks for an instant, 
then she lifted steady eyes and said: 

“ No. I believe not, thank you. I’m not sure until 
I see—my father—whether I shall remain or go on to 
New York this afternoon.” 

He found himself strangely disturbed over this state 
of things. He wanted to assure her that of course she 
must not go on anywhere. This was the place that needed 
her. But of course he could say nothing. He might not 
even tell her that her father was in trouble. He had not 
been given permission to do anything but convey her to 
her home and that by as long a route as possible. 

“ We’re going by a round-about way,” he explained as 
he headed his car for a detour quite away from the old 
Silver Place. “ There’s a bad bit of road they are repair¬ 
ing—” he was thankful that he had happened to notice 
the men at work on his way down and therefore could 
truthfully give an explanation to this clear-eyed maiden 
who it seemed to him must be able to read his embarrass¬ 
ment through the very serge of his coat. 

“Shallwe pass the old Presbyterian church?” she asked 
eagerly leaning forward and looking about as though it 


60 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


were a spot she knew well by heart but had never seen 
with her eyes. 

“ Why, yes, we can,” he responded eagerly, “ Are you 
especially interested in that ? ” and he looked down with 
a smile and then a wonder at the light in her eyes. 

“ It is where my father went to church,” she answered, 
as if conning things she had learned well— “ and there is 
a cemetery where my relatives are buried. I was interested 
to see it.” 

He drove the car down a smooth ribbon of a road 
that curved about with wooded land on one hand and 
mellow fields of rippling green on the other, with a glimpse 
off at the right of the Silver River and Frogtown factories 
smothered in pale budding willows against a turquoise sky. 

“ It is beautiful here, isn’t it ? ” The girl’s eyes glowed. 
She drew in long breaths of the spring air. There were 
violets at the side of the road and it came to him how like 
her eyes they were. 

They crossed a stone bridge and headed more directly 
toward the river and she exclaimed over the bright wind¬ 
ing ribbon of water. Just because he had promised to 
make the time long, because he liked to see the wild rose 
color in the round cheeks glow when she opened her eyes 
wide at the view, he slowed down the car and investigated 
some minute squeek in the mechanism. Not that it was 
important. Not that he did anything about it. Just a 
pleasant little delay. It seemed to him he was experiencing 
a charmed privilege which was slipping by all too fleetly, 
and which he would grasp as it went. It might not ever 
come his way again. 

On their way again they wound around the clump of 
beeches and came into the main street of Silver Sands all 
shining in the morning sunlight with serene houses on 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


61 


either hand in long stretches of green, and new gardens 
in geometrical lines behind the houses flanked by regiments 
of bean poles. A wide straw hat sheltered a lady picking 
strawberries in the patch of luxuriant vines. The breath 
of the day was sweet with growing things. The people 
walked crisply down the pleasant maple shaded pavements 
as though the going were enjoyment. The anvil rang out 
with silver sound from the blacksmith-shop as they passed. 
People began to hail the minister with glad lighting of 
eyes, and he was kept busy lifting his hat and waving his 
hand cheerily. Even the boys in the street gave him a 
greeting and then curiously half-jealous eyes turned to 
study his companion as they swept on their way. 

“ They all know you,” the girl commented. “ I’m 
sure you must live in Silver Sands.” 

“ I do,” he responded. “ It is a good place to live. My 
particular corner is just down that next street, the white 
house with the rose trellis over the door. I board with 
a blessed old lady whom everybody calls Aunt Katie 
Barnes. She nearly turns herself out of house and home 
trying to find new ways of making me comfortable. It 
is a very friendly community. They take one in heart 
and soul.” 

She flashed him an appreciative glance and asked 
thoughtfully: 

“ Have you known my father long? ” 

“ Well, not so very long—” the minister answered— 
“that is—you know he has only recently returned—but 
we are wonderfully good friends considering the short 
time. I—you—” he hesitated. There was something he 
wanted to tell her for her reassurance, to answer the 
question in her eyes which he felt sure she was too loyal 
to her father to ask, but his lips were sealed. And after 


62 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


all what was there to say even if they had not been ? What 
reassurance had he himself that the man he had left raving 
at Fate in the old library would give any sort of an adequate 
welcome to this pearl of a girl? He felt as if he wanted 
to tell her that if her father wasn’t glad to see her he would 
take him by the neck and shake him till he was. But one 
couldn’t tell a strange girl things like that about her father. 

“ This is the Presbyterian church we are coming to 
now, the one on the left. The main part was built in 
sixteen hundred and seventeen. Hasn’t it nobly simple 
lines? The stones have weathered to as fine a color as 
any cathedral in the old world. I love to see it against 
the sky with the sunset behind it. That spire is a thing of 
beauty don’t you think? And those doves in the belfry 
are a continual delight. Do you know Aldrich’s bit of 
a verse, ‘ And on the belfry sits a dove with purple ripples 
on her neck ? ’ There goes one now swooping down to 
the pavement. Did you see the silver flash on her wing? 
And now we’re coming to the part of the cemetery where 
your ancestors are buried. See that big gray granite 
column? No, the plain one just beyond. That is the old 
Silver lot. All the Silvers are lying there. Your grand¬ 
father and great-grandfather and their wives in that cen¬ 
tre plot, and those side plots are for the sons and their 
wives and children. It was a peculiar arrangement and 
forethought of the first Silver settler and carried out by 
each succeeding one in turn. There, those two gray stones 
are for Standish Silver and his sister Lavinia, the last of 
the family who bore the Silver name.” 

“ Aunt Lavinia and Uncle Standish. I have their pic¬ 
tures,” said the girl softly as if doing homage to their 
memory. “ They brought up my father.” 

She lifted shy friendly eyes: 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


63 


“ Silver is my name, too. It’s a queer name for a girl 
isn’t it? But I like it. I like to think I’m a Silver too.” 

“It is a beautiful name,” said the young man, doing 
homage with his eyes. 

“ They were a wonderful people from all I hear. I 
would like to have known them.” 

And now all too soon they were at the Silver door and 
he was helping her out of the car. 

He found his heart pounding strangely with anticipa¬ 
tion for the girl at his side. How would she be received? 
He felt as if he must stay by her till he was sure, although 
delicacy dictated that he disappear as soon as his errand 
was done. 

Blink with nonchalant foresight was idly flipping 
pebbles at a toad in the meadow from his perch on 
the fence, his back to the road. At his feet, attentive 
to each motion, apparently approving and aiding and abet¬ 
ting the game barked a big yellow collie. The dog bounded 
joyously across the road at sight of the car and precipitated 
himself upon the minister with a wag and a glad grin of 
recognition, then gave a friendly snuff to the girl’s hands, 
looked up and smiled a dog greeting with open cordiality. 

“ What a dear dog! ” exclaimed the girl. “ What a 
beauty! ” She was bending over him with the enthusiasm 
of a true dog lover and Blink sauntered idly over and leaned 
against the car pleased at her demonstration, eyeing her 
furtively, appraisingly. “ May I introduce his master 
Barry Lincoln, otherwise ‘Blink’ to his intimate friends? ” 
said Bannard. 

The girl lifted frank, friendly eyes to Blink’s em¬ 
barrassed ones and liked him at once. She put out her 
hand warmly and grasped his rough shy one as she might 


64 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


have done to an older man, and the boy’s heart warmed 
toward her. 

“ What a very interesting name! ” she said gaily, “ If 
I stay here long I am sure I shall try to qualify to use it. 
Is the dog’s name Link? ” 

The boy grinned. 

“ He’s Buddie,” he admitted shyly. 

“ Well, Buddie, I hope I meet you again,” she said, 
with another flash of warmth in her eyes for the boy 
whose own were now filled with open admiration. She 
passed into the white gate and Blink looked after her with 
a new stirring in his heart, call it loyalty if you like, Blink 
had no idea what it was. He lifted his glance to the 
minister’s smile and found the same thing in his friend’s 
eyes, and an unspoken covenant flashed between them to 
protect her if ever she needed their protection. Blink would 
have expressed it in words, “ She’s a good scout.” Blink 
and the dog stood by the car, Buddie wagging his plume 
of a tail vigorously, and watched the man and the girl go 
up the flower-bordered walk to the big mullioned door. 

From inside the library Patterson Greeves watched 
the two figures arrive. 

Joe Quinn watched from the shelter of the smoke bush 
close to the lilac hedge where he was digging about the 
tulip beds, and Molly the cook, having seen the car from 
her pantry window, had hurried up to the front hall 
window on pretext of looking for the housekeeper, and 
was gazing down curiously on the two, wondering what 
next was coming to the old house. 

At the extreme dark end of the back hall Anne 
Truesdale, in hiding, could glimpse the minister’s hat 
through the side lights of the hall door, and a snatch now 
and then of the lady’s feather, and she stood with hand in- 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


65 


voluntarily on her heart, waiting, not daring to come forth 
till ‘‘that huzzy” as she thought of Athalie, had gone up 
stairs. But Athalie, one foot on the lower step, had turned 
back to look at her irate father, perfectly aware that he was 
disturbed by the sight of something out of the window, and 
herself caught a glimpse of the minister returning. Ah! 
So that was why she was being sent upstairs! A good 
looking young man and she bundled away! This was no 
part of Miss Athalie’s plan of life, so she whirled about 
on the lowest step and waited also. 

Then the fine old knocker reverberated through the 
long silent house, Patterson Greeves retreated hastily in 
panic to his library and Anne Truesdale, chained to duty 
by an inexorable conscience, was forced to come forth and 
open the door. 

The stage was set and the actors came on as the door 
was timidly opened by Anne. 


5 


VII 


Athalie Greeves came noiselessly forward to the 
library door, a look of expectancy on her round pink face, a 
cat-and-cream expression about her lips. As noiselessly 
Patterson Greeves forced himself to step to the doorway 
again, a heavy frown upon his brow, a look of extreme suf¬ 
fering, one would almost have said dread, in his eyes. Anne 
with frightened eyes peered bravely round the door, and the 
two on the wide flagging stones of the porch waited, the 
girl with wistful eager, yet courageous eyes, ready for 
either love or renunciation, whichever the indications 
showed; the minister hovering tall above her, a look almost 
of defiance on his strong face, an air of championship and 
protection about him. 

Nobody spoke for the first instant which seemed almost 
like an eternity. The two girls saw each other first, for 
Patterson Greeves stood within the library door. 

The girl on the steps was gowned in a blue-gray tweed 
suit, well fitted and tailored and a trim little soft blue 
straw toque with a sharp black wing piquantly stabbing 
the folds of the straw. Her hair was golden in the sun¬ 
light, and as she stood seemed like a halo round her face. 
The light of the morning was in her eyes as she peered 
into the shadows of the hall, then suddenly grayed with 
chill and reserve as she met the eyes of the other girl. 

Athalie’s plump face grew suddenly hard, her lips 
drooped, her eyes glared, her head went slightly forward 
with a look of stealth and jealousy and her hand went 
instinctively out to catch the doorframe. Her whole form 
seemed to crouch with a catlike motion, and green lights 

66 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


67 


danced in her eyes, though they might have been reflected 
from her dress. The minister lifted amazed eyes and 
saw her. He put out an involuntary hand of protection 
toward the girl by his side. 

Then Patterson Greeves stepped into the hall sternly, 
his back to Athalie and came toward the door. He looked 
and stopped short, his hands suddenly stretched out and 
then drawn back to his eyes with a quick hysterical motion 
as if he would brush a fantasm from his vision: 

“ Alice! ” came from his lips in a low broken tone of 
agony, as if the torture and mistakes of the years were 
summed up in the words. 

During that instant while he stood with his fingers 
pressing his eyes Athalie began stealthily to step back and 
across the hall to the wide arched doorway of the stately 
old parlor that ran the depth of the house on the other side 
of the hall from the library. Her eyes wide and round 
were fixed on her father. An instant later there was only 
left the swaying of the old silk cord tassel that held the 
heavy maroon curtains of the doorway. 

Then the girl on the doorstep came to vivid life and 
stepped up quickly toward her father with eager light in 
her face. 

“ Father! ” She said the word with a world of rever¬ 
ence and stored up love, tender caressing sound, so genuine, 
so wistful, it could not fail to reach the heart of any man 
who was not utterly dead to his fatherhood. They were 
clasping hands now, looking earnestly, eagerly into one 
another’s eyes. 

Anne Truesdale, behind the door, averting her loyal 
gaze, the minister with anxious attitude upon the door¬ 
step, the alien daughter behind the heavy portiere, one 
eye applied to a loop-hole close to the doorframe, were 


68 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


breathless witnesses of the moment. Then Patterson 
Greeves drew his daughter within the library door with 
the one word “ Come,” and closed the door behind them. 
The minister came to himself, murmuring that he would 
return or telephone later, and took his departure. Anne 
Truesdale closed the front door, and with an anxious glance 
as she tiptoed by the library door, vanished up the stairs. 
A soft stirring at the end of the back hall where Molly 
listened, a cautiously closed latch, and all was still. 

X Athalie in the big dim parlor held her breath, listening, 
peered cautiously, and then drew back and gazed about 
her with a leisurely air. 

The room was wide and very long, with windows 
heavily curtained in the old-fashioned stately way. The ceil¬ 
ings high, the walls hung with dim old portraits in heavy 
gilt frames. The floor was covered with heavy velvet carpet, 
rich and thick in scrolls and roses, bright with care, though 
the years had passed many times over it. The furniture 
was rare and old and comfortable, and would have graced 
many a finer mansion. One or two chairs done in fine 
hand-made tapestry softly faded with the years, tables 
and cabinets that had come down from the masters in 
wood work. A rosewood piano of a make some thirty years 
back, whose name was still dignified and honored. Athalie 
stood and gazed about, half contemptuously. The chairs, 
yes—but the carpet! How funny! She would have to 
see that it was taken up at once and a hardwood floor— 
of course —this would be a grand room for a dance. She 
gave an experimental whirl on a cautious toe. Those cur¬ 
tains were gloomy! She slid a sleek hand into a well 
camouflaged silken pocket and brought forth chocolates 
wherewith she had fortified herself. Her mouth com¬ 
fortingly filled with the creamy velvet of Dutch creams 
she started on a tour of inspection, pausing first before 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


69 


an ancestral portrait hanging above a curiously carved 
sofa with hand-wrought tapestry upholstery. The pic¬ 
ture frame, tarnished with the years, seemed like an 
open doorway to the past. From it looked forth a woman 
plain of face, smooth of hair, with a carved high back 
comb towering above her sleek head, and bearing a 
bird on her finger. The eyes were so expressionless and 
the face so sombre that it was impossible not to connect 
it with a monotonous existence. A woman satisfied with 
a pet bird! Athalie paused and took in the thought. A 
lift of her well-rounded shoulders, a contemptuous smile, 
that was her reaction to the woman of long ago. She 
meant little to the girl modern in all her thoughts and feel¬ 
ings. There was hardly a shadow of conception of that 
sheltered, sweet, strong life that had given much to the 
world in her passing. The girl passed to the portrait of 
the man in military uniform hanging between the two long 
front windows and her jaws paused in their slow rhythmic 
manipulation of the chocolates to study him a moment. 
This must be old General Silver. Her mother had told 
her about him. Not much, only that he had been some¬ 
thing—made some great mark in the Civil War, or was it 
the war before that? Athalie’s ideas of history were most 
vague. She knew only that it was very long ago if one 
might judge by the old-fashioned hair-cut, the high collar, 
the strange war trappings, not in the least like a modern 
soldier. He had bushy eyebrows, from beneath which his 
piercing eyes looked over her head straight out to some 
far seen enemy, keen, cutting, stern—the girl shuddered. 
There had been that look in the eye of this new-found 
father of hers, not at all fatherly, not “ dadish as she 
expressed it to herself, purely official. He was like his 
ancestor, she decided, as she stood and watched the picture. 


70 TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 

Disappointing. Quite as Lilia had said he would be. Hard 
as adamant. Flint in his eye. No yielding to coaxing. 
No weakness anywhere that one could probe. Was the 
bird lady his wife or daughter? She looked back and 
studied the first portrait critically, deciding she must have 
been his wife. No wonder she looked as if she had dragged 
out a drab existence! And yet—she looked back to the 
soldier’s face. There was a fascination about him some¬ 
where. What was it? The moulding of the firm lips? 
The arch of the heavy brow? The curve of the wavy 
hair, brushed fiercely forward from either side of the 
head and focussing over the forehead in a high standing 
brush? Well—somehow that made you long to conquer, 
to draw a smile to those stern lips, a soft light to the eyes— 
it must have been that something that made Lilia marry 
her father. It couldn’t have all been money nor station 
for Athalie had heard her mother tell many times of other 
lovers, far famed and wealthy. There was something 
about her father she had come to conquer, and she hardened 
her own wilful lips in determination and passed on to the 
next wall opposite the bird lady. 

A stately dame with soft white hair and a cap looked 
forth from the next frame with a smile, more human than 
the others, the girl felt; her stiff black silk seemed almost to 
rustle from its frame with dignity and kindliness, and the 
painted hands held primly a wide, gracious fan of rare 
old lace. And by its side hung the portrait of her husband 
apparently, a fine old gentleman with silvered hair, high 
stock, and courtly manner, fitting mate for the dear old 
lady, both portraits so lifelike that Athalie paused almost 
abashed for an instant as if someone unexpectedly had 
entered the room. It gave her a feeling of unaccustomed 
awe, these strong, painted personalities all about her, past 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


71 


history caught and imprisoned on the canvas for another 
age to know intimately. They looked down at her with 
kindly gracious eyes and she turned away awkwardly, un¬ 
comfortable, and swept the room with another glance. 

On the back wall Uncle Standish Silver in more modern 
business garb, and his sister Lavinia, in her Sunday best 
silk, long sleeved, high necked, fastened with a gfeat cameo 
at the throat, and pretty crimped hair drawn back and 
up from her ears in a knot on top of her shapely head, were 
too modern to excite her curiosity, too old-fashioned to 
hold her interest. Her eyes wandered to the frame opposite 
the side window, half in shadow of the heavy curtain, a 
picture of a young man, a mere boy he was. She walked 
the length of the room eagerly to inspect it and stopped 
in admiration. A boy a little older than herself, and 
looking strangely like herself, only slim and tall, and with 
eyes—yes with eyes like the soldier—and—yes —eyes like 
her father's! It must be her father when he was a boy! 

She stood a long time looking at it with mingled feel¬ 
ings, admiring, jealous, determined, studying him as he 
had been when almost her age. She felt if she knew him 
then, she would be more able to understand and influence 
him now. Finally, with a sigh of impatience she turned 
and was about to slip out of the room when she suddenly 
saw for the first time—how had it escaped her ?—the por¬ 
trait of a young and beautiful woman, fresh, vivid, smiling, 
from a great oval frame over the white marble mantel. 
The eyes were wonderful, large, loving, innocent, deeply 
intelligent and with a look of life about them that made 
the girl uneasy. Those eyes seemed suddenly to have 
been watching her all the time, to have followed her around 
the room, to be searching her down to the depths of her 
mean, selfish little soul. They were maddening eyes to a 


72 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


girl like Athalie. They belied every purpose of her life, 
every standard and ideal dear to her soul, every act of 
which she was conscious. They were like an angel’s eyes 
come down to earth for judgment. 

Slowly, with gathering storm in her own dark eyes, 
she approached, and the two eyes seemed to meet. Who 
was this young girl dressed in misty white like a bride, 
fashioned not so long ago either? And was that a veil 
on her head? And orange blossoms—a spray? What 
bride of recent years had a right there, in the centre of the 
great room, the place of honor? It must be—! It was 
her father’s first wife! Here in the house where she had 
come to live! Watching her with searching angel-eyes 
like that! Clean eyes that made her conscious of herself! 
Assured eyes that claimed their right to be there! 

And who was it she resembled ? Where had she seen 
that face before, those true clear eyes? 

It suddenly flashed over her and she trembled from 
head to foot with rage and ground her teeth in quick fury. 
That girl out on the doorstep! Was that the girl of the 
portrait? Or had her father married another wife, a 
young girl like that? Had he dared, and not let them 
know ? Could he do that ? Or—stay! There had been a 
child. Lilia had always said that it died—but perhaps! 

Suddenly Athalie, in a burst of rage, took a long step 
toward the portrait, a spring up, and spat forth a great 
mouthful of well masticated sticky chocolate straight into 
the lovely painted face, covering eyes and nose and smiling 
lips, and dripping in ugly brown courses down cheeks and 
chin. The girl surveyed her work of desecration with 
satisfaction and a lifted chin and stuck out tongue as any 
naughty child of three might have done. Then lifting her 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


73 


hands in a hateful defiant gesture she darted from the room 
and went lightly upstairs. 

In a moment more after rummaging in her suitcase, 
she stole forth with a large framed photograph hidden 
in the folds of her skirt, and slipped down to the parlor 
again, going straight to the mantel and putting her picture 
directly under the picture of the girl bride. 

It was a recent picture of Lilia taken in exceedingly 
gauzy negligee, one of the expensive affairs of velvet and 
chiffon and fur she loved to don, an intimate picture not 
meant for public gaze, a bold-eyed, challenging, still beauti¬ 
ful woman, with amazing hair falling over bare shoulders 
and down upon the silk pillows of her chaise longue, on 
which she was half reclining. It was framed in an 
exquisite silver frame and intended for Athalie to show 
her former husband that he might see how lovely she still 
remained in spite of his indifference. 

Athalie stood back and surveyed with jealous eye the 
picture smiling defiantly forth beneath the defaced one, 
made another grimace of hate and flew up the stairs again 
to her room, leaving her mother’s picture to hold its own 
with the other portraits of the family. 


VIII 


Within the quiet library the father and daughter were 
coming to their own. The alienation of the years like a 
great wall of ice was slowly melting between them and they 
were groping for phantom ends of heart ties broken 
long ago. 

He had seated his daughter in one chair and drawn 
another opposite her. He was unnerved with the events 
of the night and morning. He seemed to find it hard to 
control his faculties and adjust himself to the present 
circumstances. He hardly seemed to hear her voice or 
the words she was speaking. It was his dead wife’s voice 
that he heard. And there was no reproach in it, but it 
rebuked him. It rebuked him so that he could 
scarcely speak. 

“ I have wanted to see you so long—father—I have 
wanted to know you—! ” she was saying. 

He groaned as he dropped his head for an instant and 
put his hands up to his eyes: 

“ You—are— Alice! ” he said hoarsely. 

She smiled. That smile he had loved so well! Was 
ever man tortured like this man? To have the dead come 
back in such perfection, yet in another body;—and with 
another soul? “ His daughter! His daughter!” he tried 
to say to himself, yet it was as babbling. He could not 
get its meaning. This was Alice come to rebuke him. Alice 
as when he first knew her. 

“ They always have called me Silver,” she said wist¬ 
fully. “ Grandmother couldn’t quite bear to call me Alice. 
But—I shall be glad to have you call me what you like—” 

74 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


75 


He looked at her as in a dream. He could not think 
what to say to her. He wanted to reach out and touch 
that lock of hair that .was drooping over her ear, the one 
with the sunbeam netted in it, it was brushing against her 
cheek, that cheek rounded with the same contour as his 
lost Alice. 

What a fool he had been not to know Alice would 
leave him her image in her child. How he had given it 
away, this dear growing vision of the lost one! Given 
it away without a thought, actually been glad to be rid 
of the responsibility! And now he had lost it! Lost the 
right! It was like giving light to a blind man, bread 
to a dead man, to give her to him now. He could never 
get in touch with her after .these years. He had carved 
out his life in a different line, a line where she did not 
fit. He could never learn to speak her language, nor 
teach her his. He would not have her learn his. He 
shuddered at the thought. He could only look at her and 
watch her as she talked, scarcely hearing anything she said. 

Afterward some of her sentences came back, stored 
up by his subconscious mind perhaps; details of her life, 
where she had been at school, how she had ^occupied her 
time, sweet incidents of the last years of those she loved. 
He understood enough to be rebuked again, seeing how 
he had failed in what might have been a pleasant duty 
toward the beloved of his beloved. 

“ You are not— angry —with me for coming? ” she 
asked at last lifting her eyes anxiously to his silent 
staring face. 

A swift contortion as of sudden pain darted over his 
face. It seemed as if he might be trying to smile in un¬ 
accustomed lines. It hurt him that she should ask such a 
thing. He had not thought that would hurt! It hurt him 


76 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


that he could not answer her with the right cordial words! 
What were the right words ? Why could he not get hold of 
them? What a complex thing this life was anyway that 
one could go on for years according to a certain plan and 
standard, and then suddenly be confronted by unsuspected 
emotions which upset the whole universe 1 He became 
aware that she was still awaiting an answer, with sorrow 
gathering in those dear blue eyes. 

“ Angry? Oh, no! Why should I be angry ?” he found 
himself saying in a cold distant tone. It was as if he were 
dead trying to call to the living, so strange and far away 
his own voice seemed to him. 

A slow flush rose in her cheeks and her troubled eyes 
searched his face for sign of welcome. 

He struggled once more for words: 

“ I am glad you have come.” The words had not 
been formed in his intention. He found to his wonder that 
they were nevertheless true. 

“ I wish you had come before! ” 

“ But you were not here! ” 

“ Of course! ” he said foolishly. “ Then I wish I had 
come sooner. I wish I had never gone—from you! ” 

“ Oh, father, do you really? How many times I have 
wished that! ” The blue eyes were full of wistful eager¬ 
ness now. It had meant a great deal to her! Why had it ? 
Was that her mother looking at him through her eyes? 
Was he going stark staring crazy? It was Alice’s look. 
Alice was looking through those eyes of her daughter’s 
as one might look through a window! 

He was not gazing at the girl now, only at Alice looking 
through her eyes. Alice was trying to signal to him, to 
make him understand something. What was that the lips 
so like hers were saying? 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


77 


“ When I was a little, little child grandmother used to 
tell me all about you, how you first came to see mother—” 
Ah! she called her “Mother ”!—*■“ How you looked, how 
you used to sing, and play football and baseball—how 
handsome you were—■” 

Ah! He had lost the thread for a moment and now 
she was speaking of her first little baby thoughts of him, 
how grandmother had taught her lisping lips to pray “Dod 
bess favver! ” Suddenly the thought of rosy baby fingers 
about his neck—where had he seen rosy baby fingers? 
Not Lilia’s baby! That had seemed too much a part of 
Lilia to be pleasant to him. He had never made much or 
seen much of Lilia’s baby. He shuddered at the thought 
of that other girl upstairs. How should he tell this girl 
about her? 

I used to wonder how it would be to have a father, 
a young father, like other children, to carry me upstairs at 
night-|—grandfather was dear, but you know he had that 
accident—oh, didn’t you know about that ? I was only two 
years old when it happened. He was knocked down by a 
heavy truck in trying to cross the city street on his way to 
Presbytery. He was always lame after that and had to 
be very careful about lifting. I used to so long to be lifted 
up and carried in strong arms—! ” 

The man wondered at the exquisite thrill that came to 
him. After all these years of dreary living, his heart burnt 
out to ashes, that the thought of a little child, his little 
child being carried in his arms should so stir him! The 
thought of a rosy cheek cuddling in his neck, moist lips 
dropping furtive kisses, soft breath coming and going 
against his cheek, golden curls spreading on his shoulder— 
she would have had golden curls he knew by the curl of 
the sunshine in the tendrils about her forehead. His baby! 


78 TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 

Alice’s baby! Alice’s gift to him to comfort him through 
the lonely years! And he had let her go! Was that what 
the eyes had been trying to signal him? It was as if Alice 
stood there behind the windows of her daughter’s eyes 
and held out her baby to him with a smile; and suddenly 
he understood and reached out the arms of his heart to 
gather her to his life. Fool that he had been that he had 
not known it sooner, before the mistakes of his life had 
thickened about him and unfitted him for caring for her! 
Suddenly he dropped his face into his hands again and 
groaned. 

“ Father! Dear father! What is it? Did I hurt 
you somehow ? ” 

“Too late! Too late!” he moaned. “What a fool 
I have been! ” 

And there somehow he told her all that she needed 
to know of the years that had separated them, broken 
sentences, more reserves than words, tender silences. The 
grafting process had begun in that which had been so 
long severed. 

When Anne Truesdale, after long lingering and listen¬ 
ing to the low murmur of voices, finally brought herself 
to tap on the door and announce lunch, their faces were 
like the clear shining after rain. 

“ Come in Anne! ” His voice was more like himself 
than it had been since his arrival. Anne entered bravely, 
suppressing her own excitement. 

“ I’m afraid, Anne, we’ve been upsetting all your 
arrangements,” he began penitently as he used to do when 
as a boy he took all the cookies in the cooky jar to feed a 
hungry horde of boys. 

“ Don’t speak of it, Master Pat. Yer not to apologize 
to me. This is yer own house. I and the rest are but here 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


79 


to do yer bidding. It is the pleasure of us all to have things 
as you'll be wanting them.” 

The woman held her hands tightly clasped at her waist 
and made a low.courtesy of respect. The master’s face 
softened with affection. 

“ Thank you, Trudie,” he said, using the old childhood 
name. Then turning toward the girl he said: 

“ Trudie, this is Alice’s child! My daughter—Silver! 
Silver — Alice! ” 

He turned quickly away, his voice husky with feeling, 
but wheeled as suddenly back again: 

“ Could she have Aunt Lavinia’s room ? I’d like to 
have her there—! ” 

Anne gave the girl one swift sifting glance and ren¬ 
dered instant homage: 

“ Indeed she could, Master Pat,” she said heartily, 
satisfaction in her eyes, “ and right pleased would Miss 
Lavinia be to have such a successor. Shall I show the 
way at once ? Lunch is putting on the table.” 

“ Why, I’ll only be a moment,” said the girl beginning 
to remove her gloves. “ How beautiful to have Aunt 
Lavinia’s room! ” 

Anne Truesdale stepped back as Silver advanced to 
the stairs and spoke in a guarded voice: 

“ And what about the young Miss upstairs ? Must I 
speak to her to come down ? ” 

The man looked as though she had struck him, and 
the light of shining went suddenly out of his eyes: 

“ Oh, why! Yes—I suppose you’ll have to—tell her 
to come down please ! ” he finished with an attempt at 
ease, and bracing himself made one of his quick turns 
and went and stood staring out of the long narrow window 
that framed the front doorway. 


§0 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


Silver had paused, glancing back, and caught the low 
words, felt the pain in his voice and the sudden dashing 
of his spirit. It seemed that a cloud must have just passed 
over the sun. “ The young Miss upstairs! ” That would 
be the flapper-looking child she saw when she first entered. 
Who was she? What right had she here in her father’s 
house ? 

But Anne Truesdale’s black silk was rustling close 
behind and she mounted the stairs looking with eager eyes 
around, nor saw the glitte-r of an evil black eye at the key¬ 
hole as she passed down the upper hall. 

“ This was Miss Silver’s room,” said Anne swinging 
wide the panelled mahogany door, and revealing quaint 
rare furniture, rich faded carpet, a glimpse of a pineapple 
carved fourposter, and the depths of a flowered wing-chair 
by the window, with a little sewing table drawn up and 
even a work basket with a bit of white linen tidily 
folded atop. 

Anne bustled about, setting straight a chair, patting 
a pillow, and smoothing a dent out of the wing-chair 
cushion where she had but just been kneeling. Then she 
slipped away down the hall and tapped at a door nearer 
the head of the stairs on the other side. 

Silver took off her hat, ran her fingers through her 
hair, washed her face and hands in the great blue and 
white china bowl, dried them on a fine linen towel fragrant 
with rose leaves and exquisitely wrought with a great S 
at one end. Then she fluffed up her hair a bit more, gave 
a glance into the mirror, and another lingering one about 
the sweet old room and went quickly down stairs arriving 
just in time to hear Anne’s low murmured: 

“ She says she’ll not come down. She’s not feeling 
so good,” and to vision her father’s relief at the message. 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


81 


At the head of the stairs, Athalie with velvet tread had 
crept to the railing to listen, and peer over from the 
shadows of the upper hall as they went to the old stately 
dining-room, father and daughter, for their first meal 
together. As they disappeared and the heavy door closed 
silently behind them the girl learned far over the baluster 
and made an ugly face ending in a hiss. Then as stealthily 
as she had come she crept back to her room, closed the door, 
locked it, rummaged among her luggage for a five pound 
box of chocolates and a novel and established herself 
amid pillows on the foot of the big old bed. 

Anne Truesdale came up presently with a laden tray 
of good things, but Athalie with her face smothered in 
the pillow and her chocolates and book hid out of sight 
declined any sustenance. Whereupon Anne, pausing 
thoughtfully in the hall, finally scuttled down the dark 
narrow back stairs and whisked the tray out of sight, 
deciding that the master should not know of this hunger 
strike yet. 

After lunch Silver and her father went back to the 
library for a time, and their low voices in steady cheerful 
conversation were not soothing to the other daughter’s 
nerves. She tiptoed to the open window to see if she could 
hear any words, but found she could not on account of a 
family of sparrows who were nesting in the honeysuckle 
below and seemed to have been retained for the purpose 
of chattering. 

About half past two Silver and her father went out 
together down the street. Athalie watched them from the 
shelter of the window curtain frowning and noting the 
amicable footing on which they seemed to be. 

They went to the station and reclaimed the girl’s suit¬ 
case. On the way back they stopped at the old church 

6 


82 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


and walked slowly through the graveyard, the father point¬ 
ing out the names on the white stones, of those who would 
be of interest to her among her unknown kin, the girl's face 
kindling with tender emotions as she read the records mossy 
with age. 

While they were gone the village expressman arrived 
with four immense trunks and three wooden boxes. 
Athalie arose with alacrity from her couch of pain and 
superintended their installment in the house. 

“ You can bring the two wardrobe trunks right in 
here and unpack them at once," she informed Anne Trues- 
dale haughtily. “ I shall need more closet room. I think 
I’ll take that room across the hall. You might put the 
other two trunks and the boxes there till we get them 
unpacked. I shall probably use that for my boudoir." 

“ That is the spare bedroom," said Anne coldly but 
firmly. “ There’s a trunk room in the attic where your 
trunks can be stored." Athalie gave her a withering look, 
but such looks had no effect on Anne. She went her way 
and called the faithful servitor. He managed an extra 
hand from the street, to help the expressman, and Athalie’s 
mammoth trunks were carried slowly up the stairs. Noth¬ 
ing so huge in the way of a trunk had ever entered that 
house before, and Anne stood aghast as the first one hove 
in sight and cast a quick and calculating eye toward the 
attic stairs. But when she saw how heavy they all were 
she changed her mind. They should go no farther until 
they were unpacked. So the first was placed in the back 
hall for further consideration, while the remaining three 
proved to be so enormous that Anne demanded the key 
and down in the wide old front hall Athalie’s frivolous 
possessions were brought to light and carried up in the 
abashed and indignant arms of the three old-fashioned 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


servants, who looked upon the trifles of lingerie with 
averted gaze and felt that the daring evening frocks of 
scarlet and silver and turquoise were little short of blas¬ 
phemies. They hastened them up to the oblivion of the 
second floor before the master should return, and Anne 
stood for a full minute gazing out of the hall window 
across the sunny meadow and pondering whether she ought 
not perhaps to have left them all down on the back porch 
where the boxes had been remanded, until the return of 
the master. Such doings! And a young girl who ought 
to be in leading' strings yet. Four trunks! What would 
Miss Lavinia have said! 

Athalie meanwhile was rummaging among her brilliant 
raiment, pulling out this and that, deciding what she would 
wear next after she had sufficiently cowed that hard-hearted 
father of hers, and finally burrowed her way among silks 
and organdies to her chocolates and her pillow again, 
deciding not to put anything away until that objectionable 
“ Anne ” person came to do her bidding. She felt she 
must make it understood from the start that she would be 
waited upon. Anne wasn’t much like her mother’s maid, 
but such as she was she must be reduced to obedience. 
Perhaps she could coax her father to let her have a French 
maid all her own, a young girl about her own age. That 
would be rather fun. 


IX 


While Athalie was thus engaged her father and Silver 
were wandering through the quiet graveyard, talking of 
the past. The man found himself telling his child about 
his own boyhood, his aunt, his uncle, the old minister, the 
long sweet services in the quaint old church. There was 
no bitterness in his voice now as he spoke of the religion 
of those who had brought him up. Something softening 
had come upon him. He hardly understood himself. 

And then suddenly they had come upon the young 
minister., stooping over a little new made grave, working 
with some violet plants in full bloom, planting them in 
the mellow soil until the little mound became a 
lovely couch. 

They did not see him until they were almost upon 
him, and then he rose quickly, his hands covered with 
earth, his hat on the back of his head, his dark hair curling 
in little moist waves about his white forehead, and a light 
of welcome in his face: 

“ I’m just fixing up this place a bit before the mother 
comes,” he explained. “ It looked so desolate and 
bare, and this was her only child! ” He stooped again 
and pressed the earth firmly about the violets, with strong 
capable fingers, arranging the plants as he talked till the 
whole little mound was one mass of lovely bloom. Then 
he rose, dusted the earth away from his hands and strolled 
along with them. 

“ Would you like a glimpse of the old church?” he 
flashed a smile at Silver. 

“ Oh, I would! ” she exclaimed eagerly, “ grandmother 

84 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


85 


used to tell me stories of my father’s home, all she knew, 
and she always told about the old church. Mother was 
here—once—wasn’t she ? ” She looked up shyly at her 
father who was walking absent mindedly, sadly beside the 
young people, his hands clasped behind him as if his 
thoughts were far in the past. He started as she asked 
the question, and a pain seemed to stab into his eyes as of 
one who is suddenly brought to view something long lost 
and very dear : 

“ Yes, yes! Your mother was here! On our wedding 
trip! We went to church. We sat in the old pew. She 
wore a little white hat with white flowers on it, and a thin 
blue dress—! ” It was as if he were musing over a beloved 
picture. The minister and the girl exchanged swift under¬ 
standing glances. 

“ We will go in,” said the young man, “ I have 
the key.” 

He unlocked the old oaken door and the sunshine 
poured behind them into the ancient hall, lighting up the 
well-kept red ingrain carpet and meeting the sunshine that 
poured down from a stained glass window above in curious 
blended dancing colors like the pattern of some well-remem¬ 
bered hymn sacred to many services held within those 
holy courts. 

Patterson Greeves walked beside the young Alice as 
he had walked beside her mother up those stairs to the 
assembly room above, so many years ago, and saw again 
in imagination the eager friends of his youth leaning over 
the grained oak railing to get the first glimpse of the 
bride. Felt again the swell of pride in the girl he had 
chosen, remembered the look of pleasure in the eyes of his 
Uncle Standish as he met them at the head of the stairs 
and escorted them down the aisle to the pew, and Alice’s 


86 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


smile as she looked up at him. Ah! That he had thought 
was to be the beginning of life! And only one short year 
it lasted! Then all turned to bitterness and night! Fool 
that he had been that he had thought anything so heavenly 
could have lasted on this earth! That he had believed 
there existed a God who cared for him and planned for 
him! Ah! Well—! Bitterness! 

The blood rolled over his frame in a sickly, prickly, 
smothering wave, and he mopped his brow with his hand¬ 
kerchief, and wondered why he had let himself in for 
this sort of thing after all these years ? Why had he come 
down to the old church so full of memories? 

Then he lifted his eyes to his girl who stood in the 
open doorway of the assembly room now, framed in all 
her girlish beauty against the background of the rich 
coloring of the church, its jewelled windows casting rich 
fantastic lights in a rainbow flood of beauty, glancing 
away from the cluster of gilt organ pipes, glinting the 
gold fringe of the pulpit Bible bookmark, focussing on the 
blood red of the bright old carpet, and beating it into 
a tessellated aisle of precious gems, mellowing the age worn 
woodwork of the square high pews, and the carvings of 
the pulpit and red plush pulpit chairs. There was some¬ 
thing in the look of his girl as she stood there against that 
background with all the heritage of her grandfather’s and 
grandmother’s religion behind her that took away the pain 
again, and made him watch her breathlessly, and trace 
out every likeness to the mother who was gone, made him 
glad that she had come in spite of all the pain. Even glad 
of the pain, if it brought this vision. 

The minister was explaining about the organ. “ Not 
a wonderful organ, and a bit old, but one of the good 
old makes, and with two or three beautiful stops.” Did 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


87 

she play? She did. He was sure she did. Wouldn’t 
she try the organ ? 

“ Her mother could play! Oh, she could play! ” 

Greeves had spoken without intending, but the other 
two gave no sign that they had seen the emotion in his face. 

“ Yes, I know,” the girl said quietly. “ I studied with 
her teacher for two years. He was an old man but he 
was wonderful. After he died grandfather sent me away 
to study for awhile.” 

They lingered nearly an hour in the church, the girl 
drawing sweet harmonies from the old yellow keys, the 
minister lingering near, calling for this and that favorite, 
while Greeves sat long in the old family pew and read with¬ 
out seeing them the old familiar texts twined among the 
fresco, “ The Lord is in His holy temple. Let all 
the earth keep silence before Him.” Even now after 
the years it sounded a certain note of awe in his soul, an 
echo of the old days when God was real and life a rare 
vista before him. There were the same old windows. He 
used to count the medallions in the border when the sermon 
was unusually long. There was the shepherd and the 
lambs, and the first verse of the twenty-third psalm. There 
was the storm one, purple clouds driven hard across an iron 
sky, trees and shrubs bowing before it, and the inscription, 
“ For in the time of . trouble He shall hide me in 
His pavillion. In the secret of His tabernacle 
shall He hide me.” 

How firmly he used to believe in that when he was 
a child! How truly he expected to take refuge in that 
tabernacle if any storm overtook him! And how far he 
was now from any refuge. What a farce it had been! 
Beautiful while it lasted. But a farce! He drew himself 


88 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


up with a shudder of disgust at it all and the tones of the 
organ caught him as Silver’s fingers trailed over the 
keys while she talked in low tones with the minister: 

“Nearer my God to Thee, 

Nearer to Thee—” 

It had been Aunt Lavinia’s favorite, and it stung its 
way into his soul in spite of his intention otherwise. He 
could hear her singing it, twilights in the nursery when 
she held him on her lap, his earliest remembrance, while 
her eyes watched the evening sky grow red and gray and 
deepen into starry blue, and the look about her mouth 
told him even in his baby days that there was something 
sad back somewhere in her life, something that she might 
have given up, possibly for him. 

“ Nearer my God to Thee, E’en though it be a cross—” 

He could hear the gentle murmur of her timid voice 
in that very pew as he had sat beside her many years. Ah! 
The tears stung into his eyes unaccountably after all these 
years. And he ? His song had been: 

“ Farther my God from Thee, 

Farther from Thee—!” 

How Aunt Lavinia would have agonized in prayer 
before her deep old wing-chair if she could have known! 
He had seen her kneeling once thus, in her decorous high- 
necked long-sleeved night dress with the little tatted ruffles 
round her throat and wrists, her eyes closed, her gentle 
face illuminated with a wistful joy that had awed him, 
her lips murmuring softly words of pleading for him: 

“ O God, bless our little Pat. Make him grow up a 
good man, loving God more than all else in life! Make 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


89 


him sorry for his sins! Make him love righteousness 
and hate wrong—” 

The words were indelibly graven on his soul. He had 
not thought of them in years but they were there just 
as sharply discernible as when that day he stole into her 
room to ask some trivial request for the next day’s pleasure, 
and came upon her unaware, and stood breathless as in 
the presence of the Most High, stealing away on tiptoe 
not to disturb her, lying wakeful in his bed till far into 
the night—! Ah! He turned sharply toward the two and 
his voice jarred a discord as he spoke to break the spell 
of solemnity. 

“ Come home with us and take dinner! Bannard! ” 

He had not intended to give that invitation. It had 
been the farthest from his thoughts but a moment before, 
his tongue had spoken without leave. But now that it 
was given he found ease in the thought of a guest. Why 
not? He liked the young man. A guest more or less 
made little difference in the strange make up of his sudden 
family. Perhaps it might even help out the embarrassing 
situation. But he was not prepared for the quick light¬ 
ing of the young man’s face. 

“ That would be great! ” he responded, “ But—” and 
his eyes sought the girl’s face for the flicker of a glance. 
“Are you quite sure you want—guests this first evening? ” 

“ Oh, yes, come along! ” said Greeves impatiently, half 
sorry now he had asked him, yet determined not to go 
back on his invitation. And Silver’s eyes gave him pleasant 
impersonal welcome. 

“ I’ll be there at five o’clock,” he said looking at his 
watch, “ I must meet the little mother out in the cemetery 
first, and there’s an old man who is dying—I must drop 
in there a few moments. I think I can make it by five. 


90 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


Will that be too soon ? There’s something I’ve been want¬ 
ing to talk over with you ever since I knew you were 
coming. Will you have a few minutes to spare? ” 

“ Make it by five and we’ll have tea in the garden. 
Silver-Alice can you make tea ? ” His tone was a shy 
attempt at playfulness but it brought a great light into 
the girl’s eyes as she turned a sparkling face: 

“ Oh, surely!” 

“ Then make it five. I acquired a foreign habit of 
drinking tea in the afternoon while I was over there. We’ll 
have plenty of time for a talk then. We dine at seven.” 
Then suddenly it occurred to him that he had another 
daughter awaiting him and that the prospect was any¬ 
thing but pleasant, so with an almost brusque manner 
he took a hasty leave. Turning back at the very door 
he said to the minister: “ Oh, by the way. What has 
become of that young person, Blink, I think you called 
him? We had an engagement with him this morning, 
hadn’t we ? I had completely forgotten it. Do you know 
where I could find him to make my apologies ? ” 

“ He is washing my car at present,” laughed the 
minister, “ I shall see him before long and can carry your 
message. You needn’t worry about Blink. He is very 
wise for his years.” 

“ Well, suppose you tell him to drop in to dinner at 
seven. Tell him we’ll talk over bait after dinner.” 

Terrence Bannard’s eyes registered appreciation. 

“ Thank you,” said he, “ I doubt if he’ll come. He’s 
shy and proud among ladies, but he’ll appreciate the 
invitation.” 

“ Oh, that’s all right! ” said the older man not in the 
least realizing that he was getting a party of proportions 
on his hands, but determined to discharge his obligations 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


91 


to the young friend of the evening before. “ Tell him to 
come. I liked him.” 

They were gone down the maple-shaded street, and 
the minister stood for an instant in the doorway watching 
the graceful girl as she walked beside her father, with a 
look in his eyes which would have brought the spy glasses 
of his congregation to play upon him if any had been there 
to tell the tale. 

Meanwhile, Athalie, never long content at a time, grew 
restless under her story, and wriggling out from the finery 
on the bed stole to the door and listened. All was quiet 
belowstairs save a distant subdued kitchen sound some¬ 
where off toward the back. That impudent housekeeper 
was away about her business. Now was Athalie’s time 
to pry. 

Removing her shoes and substituting blue satin mules 
she stole cautiously down the hall, and tried her father’s 
door, the front room on the same side of the hall with 
her own, but separated by deep closets, one belonging to 
her room, the other to his. 

She stood curiously staring about. It was a boy’s 
room, with college photographs and pennants, football 
groups, and Lacrosse sticks, being its chief adornings. 
Only a Gladstone bag fitted with toilet articles, and a 
locked suitcase gave evidence of the entrance of the 
owner after the years of absence. Patterson Greeves had 
been too weary and too perturbed to unpack or make any 
changes since his arrival the night before. Athalie made 
very sure that there was nothing among his belongings to 
give any clue to his present character. She went stealthily 
from bag to suitcase, even opened bureau drawers, but no 
picture, or letter or anything was brought to light that 
might be of possible interest, though she conducted her 
search with the manner and wisdom of a young detective. 


92 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


Coming out she closed the door again and stole across 
the hall to the room that had been Aunt Lavinia’s. 

Her eyes took in the details sharply, the old-fashioned 
neatness and comfort, the quiet beauty of the room, and 
the fact that the other girl had been taken there rather 
than herself, the front room, the best room in the house, 
with the big sunny windows to the street and at the side! 
Jealousy filled her heart and her full petulant lips came 
out in ugly lines. She walked quickly to the bed, 
snatched Silver’s hat and gloves and flung them across 
the room behind a chair. She took up her handbag and 
went through it carefully, ruthlessly, tearing in half and 
restoring to its silken pocket a small photograph of a 
woman, the woman whose portrait was down stairs she 
felt sure. Then she went over to the closet and flung wide 
the door. After a moment’s survey of two or three 
shrouded dresses of ancient fashion that hung there she 
gathered them up and flung them on a chair. Then she 
went back to her own room and selected an armful of 
her gayest garments and returning began to hang them 
on the hooks. 

All at once she became aware that someone was near, 
and turning, her arms still half full of finery, she found 
herself facing Silver. 

Not in the least abashed she looked her up and down 
contemptuously a full second before either spoke. Then 
Athalie spoke: 

“ Well! Who are you? ” she asked rudely. 

“ I beg our pardon,” said Silver hesitating on the 
threshold, “am I intruding? Have I made a mistake? 
I was told this was my room—” 

“ Well, it isn’t” said Athalie roughly, “I’m going to 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


93 


take it myself! I don’t like the room that old frump gave 
me so I’m moving over here. You can have my room 
when I get out if you’re going to stay over night. I’m 
Athalie Greeves, and this is my father’s house, so what 
I say goes! ” 

Silver stood quite still for an instant, the smile frozen 
on her lips, her eyes taking in the details of this impossible 
sister, her ears trying to refuse the evidence of the sounds 
they had heard. Something seemed to flicker and go 
out in her face, a stricken look flitted over it, succeeded 
by a sweet dignity and a lifting of her chin that in another 
might have amounted to haughtiness. * Then she 
said quietly: 

“ I see. Well, I will not trouble you.” 

She walked over to the other side of the bed, 
recovered her hat and gloves, took up her handbag, and 
went out and down the stairs. Athalie did not stop to 
notice where she went nor care. She went on arranging 
her garments on the hooks, an ugly expression on her 
heavy young brow. 

Silver passed quietly down stairs and found an un¬ 
obtrusive resting place for hat and gloves on the console 
in the depth of the wide hall, and then went on to the 
now open door that gave to a wide bricked terrace with 
the garden just below, reached by mossy brick steps set 
in the sod, and edged by crocuses and daffodils. Beyond, 
a flare of color and the perfume of hyacinths and tulips 
lured the senses, and the subtle breath of lilies-of-the-valley 
stole from out the deep green border of the terrace. Silver 
stood for a moment looking out and trying to quiet the 
excited beating of her heart from the encounter. Trying 
to think what she ought to do. Wondering why her 
father had said nothing about this strange inmate of the 


94 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


house. Wondering why she had forgotten to ask him 
who the girl was she had seen on the stairs when she 
arrived. Thinking that in all likelihood the attitude of 
this other girl would make even a visit to her father 
impossible, and grieving at the thought. 

Already Molly and Anne Truesdale were bustling 
about, setting out a leaved table on the terrace, spreading 
it with fine old embroidered linen and delicate cups of 
other days, quaint heavy silver, plates of delectable cookies, 
and squares of spicy gingerbread. The pleasant garden 
and the bright show of flowers, the coming guest and the 
air of happiness seemed not to belong to her. She felt 
a sudden loneliness, as if she were intruding, abashed in 
the presence of the things she could, enjoy, appalled by the 
fact of this other girl in the house. The story then had 
been true that they had heard, that there had been a child 
by her father’s second marriage. And she must have 
lived instead of dying as rumor had brought to them. Her 
father had never written a word about either birth or 
death to her grandfather and grandmother. She wondered 
again why? Her loyal heart refused to admit that her 
father had been wrong. He was her father. Perhaps 
there was some excuse. Perhaps there was some 
explanation. 

Sudden tears came at this juncture and threatened to 
overflow. In a panic she withdrew into the shadows 
of the hall lest the servants should see her, and almost 
ran into her father’s arms as he came down toward the 
door to see if his orders had been understood. He passed 
a loving arm around her, gently, as if he were almost 
afraid to touch her, almost shyly, she thought, and he 
whispered very low: 

“I’m glad you’ve come—Silver-Alice! ” 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


95 


Then Anne bustled in to ask some question and Silver 
slipped back to the library for a moment searching for 
her handkerchief, and so got control of herself. She came 
back to walk down the terrace with her father and see 
the places where he used to play as a child, and hear all 
about the old fountain and the fairy tales he used to make 
up about it. Walking thus she almost forgot the sister 
upstairs who was so ungracious, almost forgot that some¬ 
time she would have to speak about her if her father did 
not speak first. 

There was a cloud on her father’s brow. She noticed 
it first as they paused beside the sun-dial and she traced 
the line of clear-cut shadow half between the four and five 
of the quaint old figures. A sun-dial. How delightful! 
It was like digging up antiquities. Her heart leaped to 
the poetry of it. Then she looked up and saw the shadow 
on the stern sad face above her. Something was troub¬ 
ling him. What was it? Her presence here? Perhaps 
he knew how distasteful it was to the girl upstairs, and 
he did not know what to do. Perhaps it was best for her 
not to stay at all—perhaps—! 

She put out a wistful hand and touched his sleeve: 

“Father!” 

“ Yes,” he said as if answering the thought of her 
heart. “ There is something I must tell you, child. Come 
over to the old arbor and let us sit down. It 
is—unpleasant.” 

“ Is it about—Athalie, father ? ” she asked as she 
turned to follow him. 

He stopped and looked at her astonished. 

“ How did you know ? Had any one sent you word 
she was coming? ” with quick suspicion in his voice. Lilia 
was quite capable of preparing such a setting for the 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


advent of her daughter. She seemed to have a sort of 
demoniacal insight into what would be exquisite torture 
for him. But Silver shook her head. 

“ Oh, no. But I saw her standing on the stairs behind 
you when I arrived, and again up stairs just now. She 
was moving her things into the room where I had laid 
off my hat. She asked me who I was. I am almost sure 
she does not like my coming. I think—father— dear, it 
isn’t quite convenient for you to have me visit you just 
now. I believe it would be better if I went back tonight 
and perhaps came again later, in a few years when she is 
older, or away on a visit or something. I would not like 
to make you trouble. And it has been wonderful to see 
you and to talk with you for even this short time. I 
shall never feel quite alone in the world again now that 
I know I have a father —such a father! ” 

“ Stop! ” His voice was choked with consternation, 
anger, something else that sounded almost like humility! 
Strange to see that expression sitting unaccustomedly 
on Patterson Greeves’ haughty features. 

“ Don’t say any more things like that Silver,” he said 
brokenly, “ I can’t bear them. It is bad enough to have 
got in such a mess. Bad enough to have a daughter like 
that! Bad enough to have her come here unannounced— 
she came only a few minutes before you did—without 
having you reproach me by flying up and leaving. You 
cannot leave me now my child! You must stay by and help 
me. 1 need you! ” 

“ Oh, father, dear! ” She put out a loving hand to 
his arm again and he drew her within his embrace and 
down the path toward the summer house. 

It was so that Athalie saw them as coming to the 
window of her own room, her arms full of more finery, 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


97 


she stood and gazed. Suddenly she dropped her armful, 
and great jealous tears of rage welled into her large bold 
eyes. From her handsome full lips a smothered sound 
almost like a roar of some enraged young animal came 
and was quickly suppressed. For a moment she watched 
then she turned about and began to search wildly among 
the confusion of clothing on bed and chairs, and to hastily 
array herself in other attire. 


7 


X 


About this time also, Blink, having received the invita¬ 
tion by word of mouth from the minister, and not having 
declared himself either way about accepting it, repaired 
to the meadow lot opposite the Silver place and proceeded 
to fill a large tin can with the choicest bait the town afforded 
from a private and secret source underneath some old 
rotting logs which had long furnished him with better 
angles than any other boy was able to produce. He was 
not yet sure whether he would go to the party, but he 
would at least be ready with an offering should the fates, 
when the time arrived, seem propitious. 

Sooner than he had expected the can was filled, and 
he lay back on the sweet smelling turf of the meadow and 
gazed up at the blue of the sky, watching the tiny, lazy, 
gauzy clouds that floated slowly, drifting like thistle down 
whither it happened. It was easy to feel he was floating on 
one of them drifting too. He often did that. It was his 
way of reading poetry. He read a great deal of living 
poetry at that stage of his existence. 

Lying so with a clump of blue violets close to his hand, 
and the tinkle of a cow bell not far away he could drift 
and think of a great many things that an ordinary boy 
in the everyday of life wouldn’t consider profitable for 
one of his standing. 

Out of the tale of his eye he saw the minister, presently, 
going in the white gate between the hedges. He thought 
of the little grave covered with violets, and the young 
mother, a social outcast, with her new sorrow and bewilder¬ 
ment in her face. No one had told him about it. It was 


98 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


99 


one of those things that Blink always knew. By and by 
he would slip back to the cemetery and water those flowers. 
It wouldn’t be necessary for the minister to bother with 
that. The flowers would just grow all right and he could 
let them off his mind. Blink knew how to relieve him 
at odd little phases of the way. The minister was a good 
scout. If Silas Pettigrew made any more of those Phari¬ 
saical remarks about the minister letting handsome young 
women of the street go to some “mother in Israel” when 
they were in trouble he would see that he found a way 
to tell Silas where to get off. Silas wasn’t such a saint 
anyway if he was an elder in the church! There was that 
time when he bought Widow Emmet’s house for twenty- 
five hundred dollars and then discovered the very next 
day that the railroad would buy it at twelve thousand to 
complete their new franchise, and he never let the widow 
in on the deal! Old cotton mouth! Thinking he could 
put one over on the town, and get the minister in Dutch 
with the old tabbies, just because that poor girl—when 
everybody knew young Sil Pettigrew—but there! 

He watched with satisfaction as the great door opened 
with a glimpse of Anne in black silk and sheer collar. He 
too might be thus received later in the evening if he so 
chose. He reflected that “ the girl ” would be there. It 
seemed a pleasing circumstance. She liked dogs. She 
was all right. 

Then suddenly his attention was attracted to a motion, 
a shadow, what was it moving at an upper side window 
of the house. Someone was climbing out to the pergola 
below, a boy it looked like, heavily built with a shock of 
football hair, knee trousers, and a strange belted kind 
of jacket. 

He sat up stealthily, leaning on one elbow, his young 


100 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


face growing grave as he watched. Now who the deuce 
could that be? Not a burglar, this time of afternoon, 
sun still up? Still. That wasn’t any town figure, none 
of the boys’ shoulders that shape, nor hair. It might be 
a disguise but—how pink the face looked, like a Chinese 
painting on a fan! 

Without taking his eyes from the object of his atten¬ 
tion he made ready to take a hasty departure. One hand 
went out and secured the can of bait. His mind turned 
over the available hiding places where he might store it 
safely. How clumsy that guy was! Wasn’t much of a 
climber. What in time was he doing up there in that 
house anyway? 

Slowly the figure crept to the front of the pergola, 
glanced cautiously around, peeked back and over the vines 
as if watching some one, and then dropped heavily down 
among the myrtle beds. A moment more and he saw it 
rise, jamb a curious looking mushroom hat down over the 
shock of hair, and come out the gate to the street, with 
furtive glances back toward the house. The whole atti¬ 
tude of the person showed secrecy and stealth. Once 
outside the gate it turned toward the direction of the 
stores and walked rapidly with a free stride despite its 
stocky build. 

Blink arose from his bed of green and lost no time 
in following. The can of bait was deposited in the hollow 
of a tree a rod from the street, and Blink was over the 
fence and making good time in a trice. The stranger 
was still in sight, had passed the first cross street and 
was almost to the drug store. Blink fell into a lope and 
made the garage diagonally across from the drug store 
just as the figure paused, one foot on the step, one hand 
on the latch and looked up and down the street. He had 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


101 


a full view of her face. Good night! It was a girl! A 
girl in knickers! They passed through the town some¬ 
times, girls like that, out on walks with men Sundays 
and holidays, but there were none indigenous to the soil 
of Silver Sands. It was not done! And look at her face! 
Ye gods. Fell in the flour barrel! Painted like an image! 
Good night! Did a girl think she was nice looking that way 
he would like to know? And coming from the Silver 
house! How was it possible ? Blink did not use the word 
“ incongruous ” in common parlance but it was the way he 
felt. For one awful second he experienced deep and horri¬ 
ble disappointment. “ The girl.” She liked dogs but she 
was like that! Then instantly the thing was impossible. 
No, she hadn’t been a fat thing like that. She wasn’t the 
same one. But who was she? Some interloper? How 
did she get there without his knowing? Did the family 
know? What did she have to do with them? Oughtn’t 
something to be done about it ? 

Since he had been able to walk alone Blink had been 
a self-constituted member of the police force of Silver 
Sands. He belonged to a clan who seldom said what they 
meant, seldom talked but in parables, and kept their eyes 
open. Many a wrong had been righted and a petty criminal 
saved through their ministrations to become a worthy 
citizen after due chastisement and discipline. They 
reserved the right to use their own judgment, and on 
occasion had been known to evade the law for their own 
wise and worthy reasons, to save an underlying principle 
which in their opinion would be lost if the law had its 
course. The strangest part of it all was that the outcome 
usually would seem to warrant the venture, and occasion¬ 
ally the Chief of Police himself had been known to wink 
at some open break on the part of the boy because he had 


102 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


come to have utter faith in his working principle. Blink 
had been known to search out the criminal and the facts 
in some mystery more than once where others had failed 
to get a clue, and the Chief always felt it well to keep in 
with Blink. He took him with him now and again when 
a raid on some lawbreaker was imminent. He had faith in 
Blink’s intuition. 

Blink himself had unerring faith in his own judgment. 
It was to him like a clear magnifying glass that had been 
given him at birth, which showed up Truth, and he couldn’t 
see why other people didn’t exercise the same faculty. They 
all must have the same thing if they only used it. 

Athalie seeing nothing else down the principal business 
street more attractive than the drug store, opened the 
door and went in. Blink leaned up against the show win¬ 
dow of the garage in front of a great pasteboard model 
of a new kind of tire, looked idly up and down the street 
and saw every move the strange girl made. 

She looked about the store with that curious appraising 
glance she gave to everything the first time of seeing, and 
then turned into one of the two telephone booths that 
huddled by the corner window, close to the entrance door. 
She took the front one facing the door and seemed to 
be looking through the book for a number. When she 
had taken down the receiver, Blink, without seeming to 
have been looking that way, sauntered thoughtfully across 
the street and entered the drug store most casually, taking 
one full impersonal look at the girl’s face as he passed. 
No, it was not the girl. He had been pretty sure before, 
but he was glad to know. 

And this one was pretty enough, if she hadn’t been 
so ghastly painted, and such funny eyebrows, almost as 
if she wanted you to see she hadn’t them in the right 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


103 


place. She had big brilliant white teeth, with those vivid 
red lips like the clown in the circus, and she had a hard 
bold look in her eyes. When he entered she was talking 
and laughing boisterously. She could be heard all over 
the store, if there had been anyone around to hear but 
stupid Sam Hutchins the “soda” clerk. 

Blink stalked over to the counter and threw down a 
nickel for a package of life savers, and then as if he had 
had no other purpose in entering he sauntered straight to 
the other telephone booth and shut himself in to a careful 
inspection of the W’s in the telephone directory. Not 
that he wanted anyone with a name beginning with W. 
It was just the first page he happened to open. 

Clear and distinct came the voice from the booth ahead: 

“ Now Bobs! You don’t mean you didn’t know my 
voice! Well, I’ll say that’s a slam! I’m off you for life! 
Oh! Really? Awwww—Bobbbbs! Now, that’s awfully 
darling of you! ” 

Blink was disgusted. Just one of these foolish Janes. 
He had heard them talk before, only why did they want 
to dress like a man, and why should one of them climb 
out of a second story window in the Silver house? He 
slammed the book shut and called up the captain of a 
neighboring baseball team in the next township. He was 
disgusted with himself for caring. He would listen no 
more. It was likely some queer visitor. But one thing 
was settled. He was not going to the Silver house that 
night. Not with so many girls about. He couldn’t 
stand girls! 

“ Is that you kid? Oh, isn’t he? Well, call him won’t 
you? I’ll wait. This is Blink. Yes, Blink. / said it.” 

“ Boom! ” came the girl’s voice into his waiting. “Well, 
you’ve got to come and get me, Bobs. You said you would 


104 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


if I sent for you. I’m having a horrid time. No, I haven’t 
been down to meals. I didn’t have any success at all. If 
it hadn’t been for your five pounder I’d have starved. Yes, 
been on a hunger strike. But honestly, Bobs, it’s no 
use. I simply can’t stick it out! I shall expire. Can’t you 
come down this evening and take me a ride ? No, he’d never 
find it out. I’ve retired to my room with a sick headache, 
see ? He expects to hear nothing more from me till morn¬ 
ing. I’ve shocked him so hard he would be glad if he never 
had to see me any more. I’ll make him sit up and take 
notice yet. I promised Lilia I would and I mean to keep 
my word. But Bobs, you’ve simply got to stand by or I 
sha’n’t survive. Aw, come on, Bobs! I’ve found a way 
to get in the window. We can stay as late as we like. 
Nobody will ever find it out. I can shin up the pergola. 
Oh, sure! I useta do it in gym.... Aw, why Bobs ?.... I 
think you’re too mean —!....Well, then, how about 
t’morra?....You won’t stand me up?. . . .Well, if you 
do all right for you!.... Where will I meet you ?. . .. Why 
I’m down at the drug store now. Couldn’t you come here ? 
.... Aw why ?.... I don’t see. What do I care for these 
country simps! Let ’em tell dad! I’ll have the fun first 
won’t I? Leave it to me. I’ll get away with it. . . .What 
is it you’re afraid of, you poor fish? Your reputation? 
Well I like that! I didn’t know you had any!. . . . All right, 
Bobs. I’ll come. Where do you say it is? Walk over 
the bridge at the other end of the village?. .Yes. . .. 
Woods ? On the right hand side ?.... I didn’t get that. 
Oh, you want me to walk in a little way from the road 
out of sight?....I see. Yes. Sure. All right, I’ll be 
there, Bobs. Four o’clock sharp! But don’t you be late 
or fail me. If you do I’ll never speak to you again, Bobs. 
And I’ll tell Lilia how mean you were. No, I’ll tell her 












TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


105 


you said she was getting old. That’ll get her goat! Then 

she won’t speak to you either!_All right, Bobs. I’ll 

be there! ” 

The receiver hung up with a click and the girl adjourned 
to the soda water counter where she tried various com¬ 
pounds and chatted affably with Sam Hutchins in a lofty 
patronizing tone, telling him how to prepare the special 
concoctions they used to get at school. She made out quite 
a respectable lunch, what with the sponge cake they kept 
in a glass showcase, and several chocolate ice cream sun¬ 
daes. Certainly enough to keep the breath of life in her 
plump well cared for body until the next morning, and 
then she took her leave and stalked on down the street 
to the end of the village and crossed the bridge. Blink 
went across to the garage, borrowed a motor cycle, and 
took a breezy turn that way himself. He felt that this 
young adventuress needed a chaperone. She came from 
the house of a man he liked and loyalty to his friends, 
even his very new friends, was one of Blink’s specialties. 
He felt instinctively that Patterson Greeves would not like 
a guest of his whoever she might be to be sailing through 
the open country side alone in such a garb at the hour 
when the workmen from the quarry half a mile below 
the town would be coming home. 

So he chortled noisily by her on his wheezy steed and 
sailed on down the road, arranging to have something 
the matter with the cycle about the time she turned off 
the road toward the woods, which made it necessary for 
him to dismount and get down in the road to examine 
into it. 

Athalie did not stay in the woods very long. Nature 
unadorned never had much attraction for her. She entered 
a narrow winding path, followed it to a log a few rods 


106 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


within the thick grove, and sat down. But solitude never 
appealed to Athalie, and after a moment’s reconnoitering 
she came back to the road again and pursued a monotonous 
way to the village. 

“ Fat thing! ” reflected Blink contemptuously jogging 
along behind at a sickly pace for one of his ambitions. 
Whenever he came too near he had to stop and examine 
his engine again, but in course of time the two arrived 
in the neighborhood of the drug store. Athalie went in, 
purchased some salted almonds and went on to her father’s 
house. Blink returned his motor cycle, and took a back way 
to the meadow, arriving in plenty of time to watch the 
lady mount the pergola and enter her window once more. 

The incident finished, Blink sat for some minutes 
turning it over in his mind, decided there was something 
here that needed further investigation, and that he must 
accept the invitation to the house and see what he might 
see, although he could not bring himself to go through 
the agony of a dinner with girls. To this end he picked 
himself up from the ground, retrieved his can of bait and 
took the shortest cut to his home, where he began a 
thorough search for a clean shirt and its accompaniments. 

Athalie, having regained the stronghold of her room 
was about to return to her task of moving her clothes to 
the front room closet when suddenly the sound of a tinkling, 
spoon against a thin china cup, and a ripple of soft laughter, 
with an undertone of heavier gaiety sent her flying to 
her window. 

For an instant her face took on the wild look of a 
young savage as she gazed down at the pretty tea table 
set out on the terrace below, the plate of thin bread and 
butter, so tempting to her bonbon-jaded appetite, the orange 
marmalade like drops of amber, the dainty dish of sugar 



TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


107 


cookies, thin and attractive in clover leaf form. The 
whiff of orange pekoe wafted up as Silver passed her 
father his cup. Tea on the terrace and she not even told! 
And there was that stunning looking man again! Who 
was he ? Did that other girl think she would take posses¬ 
sion of him too as well as her father, and the house, and 
the best room, and everything? Well, they would find 
out! She was going down at once. She would show that 
stuck up girl—! 

Athalie turned from the window after a moment more 
and began to fly around with catlike tread, dropping off 
garments and sliding into others, searching wildly amid 
the mass of finery for the thing she wanted. It was a coral 
crepe she finally chose, with a low cut bodice of silver cloth, 
and startling touches of black velvet fastened with 
jewelled buckles. 

She worked frantically over her complexion and 
brushed out her permanent waves until they looked like 
an electric sign. A platinum chain like a breath of air 
about her plump white neck held a single jewel like a drop 
of dew. In her ears were long jet earrings, giving her a 
more brazen expression than ever. Her large pink arms 
were guiltless of sleeves as she stood before the mirror, 
turning this way and that on the high heels of her little 
silver slippers into which her plump feet seemed to be 
fairly forced. She was well pleased with herself. Probably 
this wasn’t exactly the right kind of costume according to 
social rules, for that early hour in the day, but at least 
it was effective, and that was all she really cared. She 
felt that she could afford to be a law unto herself. 

As she took her final glimpse and tiptoed toward the 
door she seemed like some great gay bird with a large part 
of its gaudy plumage plucked away. The floating coral 


108 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


and silver were inadequate. “ Naked ” was what Anne 
Truesdale expressed it to herself as she stood in frozen 
horror behind the pantry door with a plate of fresh cookies 
and watched the bright apparition move out of the door 
to the terrace and stand a moment, “ the very devil of a 
smile on her lips ” as Tom who was watching behind the 
lilacs afterwards told his wife Molly. 

Then Patterson Greeves with his cup half way to his 
lips, and a look of comfort and relaxation on his brow, 
suddenly looked up and stared. They all looked up and 
saw her. Athalie came forward, her eyes fixed straight 
upon the minister, her most coaxing spoiled-baby look 
on her pink over-fed face. 


XI 


If a cavern had opened beneath his feet revealing dead 
men’s bones Patterson Greeves could not have been more 
shaken. He was white with consternation as he faced his 
astounding daughter and trembled. 

“ I hope you haven’t eaten everything up,” she said 
airily, coming forward, “ I’m simply dying of starvation. 
Why don’t you introduce me, dad? ” 

She stood facing the young man, her bare pink 
shoulders turned toward her step-sister utterly ignoring 
her, her whole forward young personality flaunting itself 
at Man in the concrete, this man in particular, the kind 
of an appeal that a woman of her mother’s sort always 
uses with a good man to disarm his disapproval. Greeves 
recognized instantly Lilia’s arts and ways with himself, 
and pain and rage shot through his heart. Why had he 
not understood it then ? Why had he let himself be fooled ? 
Would this young man be inveigled? He glanced 
anxiously toward his guest and saw that the minister’s 
eyes were meeting Silver’s in a quick look of understanding 
as if the two had joined forces to protect him against the 
humiliation his daughter was bringing upon him. Ah! 
so might the memory of Silver’s mother have protected 
him if he had not been too sore and bitter to let it! Fool! 
Fool! Was he destined to go always from this time seeing 
nothing but his folly, his everlasting folly that was bring¬ 
ing with it retribution now ? Athalie, his daughter, seemed 
to him an embodiment of his own sins, come back after 
years to torment him. Was this what hell meant? The 
old-fashioned hell that nobody believed in any more? 

109 


110 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


He was still standing, shaken and trembling, his cup 
in his hand, but nobody was paying any attention to him. 
He gradually realized this and was glad. They were trying 
to help him. Silver had poured a cup of tea and held it 
out to her sister, but Athalie ignored it, as if it were a 
ghost she did not see, and reaching out poured another 
for herself. 

“ Isn’t there any lemon ? ” she asked looking the 
table over. “ Quinn bring some lemon. I never take 
cream. Why don’t you pass the cakes, Mr. Man ? ” She 
was addressing the minister with a pert freedom that made 
Silver turn her eyes away in pain for her father’s embar¬ 
rassment. But the young man handed the plate of cookies 
with a gentle impersonal dignity that seemed to take the 
edge from the girl’s audacity and put her down in the class 
of a child who knew no better than to take the centre 
of publicity. 

“ Gracious but you’re a grouch! ” commented Athalie 
gaily, looking straight into his eyes with her bold black 
ones, “ won’t you smile any more just because we haven’t 
been introduced? You must excuse dad, he seems to be—” 

But just then her father stepped forward haughtily 
and took the cup from the girl’s hand. 

“ Athalie, you are not properly dressed to be out here. 
Go upstairs and put on—a—a —szveater or something,” he 
ended helplessly. “ It is chilly—” 

But the girl burst forth in a ripple of hoy- 
denish laughter. 

“ A sweater with an evening dress! Oh, dad! You 
certainly have been out of the world. Don’t worry about 
me. I’m never cold. I’ll take another cake, Quinn.” 

Patterson Greeves’ face hardened into a set helpless 
look. He was one whom men had always obeyed. This 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


111 


embryo woman defied him openly and something some¬ 
where in his moral armor was so weak that he could not 
meet her and conquer her. His lips shut sternly and his 
voice was like icicles. 

“ Then I will go farther and say that your dress is 
unseemly and out of taste. What may have seemed to you 
fitting among girls of your school is not in keeping with 
our quiet homelife in this village. We do not wear evening 
dress on ordinary days and you will oblige me by finishing 
your tea in your room and then changing into something 
less flimsy, that has sleeves and a—a —neck to it. Some¬ 
thing more— adequate. Let me introduce to you your;—he 
hesitated—my eldest daughter, Silver. She is older than 
you are. She will be able to advise you about your wearing 
apparel. I commend you to her friendship. She is—ah— 
your sister, of course, you know.” 

Silver knew instantly that her father had touched the 
wrong chord. Athalie’s impudent chin went up, her eye¬ 
brows, what there was left of them went up, her full 
cupid’s bow of an upper lip went up, and the sharp red 
corners were drawn quickly and contemptuously down in 
a smirk of hate. She did not look at Silver. She did not 
acknowledge the introduction. Her big black eyes were 
fixed on her father who had already turned his back having 
manlike cast his burden thus upon womankind, and was 
moving off toward the door, with a relieved note in 
his voice. 

“ Come Bannard, let’s go into the library and have 
our talk. It grows chilly out here already. The spring 
sun has not much warmth yet.” 

“ Thanks! I don’t need any advice from anyone about 
my clothes! I generally wear what I like! ” Athalie 
hurled after him, her shoulders lifted irately. But he was 


in 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


already inside the door and did not choose to hear further 
defiance. He hurried toward the library door and drew 
chairs in front of the fireplace where a fire was al¬ 
ready laid. 

“ Sit here Bannard. I’m sorry and ashamed that you 
should have seen my family under these trying circum¬ 
stances. What would you do with a girl like that ? What 
are young people coming to? Wasn’t I right in saying 
she was impossible ? ” 

Out on the terrace Athalie whirled so that her back 
was turned to Silver. So she stood facing the glow of 
hyacinths and tulips, herself a flaring tulip of them all, 
and drank her tea in leisurely manner, helped herself to 
more cake, and another cup of tea, and utterly ignored the 
presence of the other girl. 

Silver, after watching her a moment stepped over 
toward her. 

“ Listen! ” she said firmly, “ you might as well cut 
that out. It's just as hard for me as it is for you. He’s 
my father just as much as yours you know. He was my 
father firstl We’re sisters you know. We can’t help 
that—! ” 

Athalie whirled on her with her eyes blazing. 

“ We’re not sisters!” she stamped her foot. “I’ll never 
call you my sister. You’ve no business here! I know 
all about you! My father gave you away, and you’re 
adopted! You’re the same as dead! You have no right 
to turn up and spoil my life! And you needn’t think you 
can get his money away either. I’m his natural heir! 
The court—” 

“ Stop! ” cried Silver suddenly white with anger. “ As 
if money had anything to do with it! ” 

“ Shut up! ” flashed Athalie, “ I’ll say what I please. 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


113 


And you needn’t pretend you’re so awfully saintly. I 
know your kind, you mealy mouthed hypocrite! You 
can’t put one over on me. You’re in for the money as well 
as anybody. Now I’ll give you one day to get out and 
stay out, and if you don’t do it I’ll make hell for you, do 
you understand? And I know how to do it when I try! 
You’re not going to stick around here and spoil my plans! 
And if you go and tell dad you’ll be sorry, that’s all I’ve 
got to say! ” 

She jerked the little gold case out of a silken hiding 
place among her draperies, lighted a cigarette insolently, 
and flung the lighted match full into the face of the other 
girl turning with another whirl, and marching down the 
garden path with her cigarette atilt in her contemptuous 
red lips, her gaudy draperies looking as out of place in the 
quiet garden among the spring blossoms as a painted lily 
in the woods. 

Silver started back from the flaring match just in 
time to escape the flame, gazed in consternation for an 
instant after the plump arrogant figure of the other girl 
and then throwing her head back she sent a clear ringing 
laugh after her sister. Athalie paused in her majestic 
progress to turn and stare angrily but Silver was gone into 
the house. 

Anne Truesdale slipped a ready arm about her as she 
entered the shadow of the hall. 

“ Yer not to mind, my sweetie, what a huzzy like that 
says. She’ll not be here long, I’m thinking. The master 
was telephoning the morn’ something about a school for 
her. He’ll be soon sending her kiting, the little upstart.” 

“Oh, thank you, Mrs. Truesdale,” quivered Silver, 
“I’m sorry you had to overhear this disgraceful conversa¬ 
tion. I thought I could get her to see things in a different 

8 


114 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


way, but I see it was very unwise to speak at all. She wasn’t 
in the right mood—” 

“ I doubt if she has any right moods, my dearie. She’s 
a little sinner, that girl is. I’ve read about ’em in the 
newspaper. Look at her now, puffing away like a man, 
the impertinent chit. Disgracing her father and his respect¬ 
able house! The sooner she gets out of this respectable 
town the better for all concerned. Her mother must be 
one of the devil’s own to bring up a girl like that. Now 
come upstairs my dearie and I’ll help you to dress and fix 
yer hair. Yer trunks haven’t come yet, but that doesn’t 
matter, the master doesn’t care for things to be formal—” 

“ Oh, but Mrs. Truesdale—” 

“ Call me Anne, Miss Silver, I like it better. It’s what 
yer father always calls me.” 

“ Oh, Anne, I thank you, but I must get ready and go 
away. Couldn’t you help me to go at once before my 
father hears anything about it? It would only distress 
him to know the reason. You could just tell him that I 
felt that I must go for the present, and that perhaps some 
day I will come back if he wants me—or he can come to 
see me. I didn’t really intend staying when I came. I 
have a position and I ought to begin my work right away 
this week. Can you find out how soon there is a train 
back to the city, and help me to get away quietly before 
she comes in? I haven’t anything to pack. My suitcase 
hasn’t been opened yet—” 

“ Indeed no, my dearie! ” said Anne firmly, “ I’ll no 
help ye to any such fool doings. Yer not to go away at all. 
And my master would half kill me if he found me a party 
to any such thing. Besides, can’t ye see he needs ye just 
now ? He’s beside hisself with grief and shame over yon¬ 
der fat young bully. Do ye think it’s a joke fer a man to 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


115 


come back from a far land and find a thing like that is 
child o his? You’ll stay right where ye are, my sweet 
lady, and help that distracted father o’ yours back into 
sanity. Besides, he’s got company, and he’s depending 
on you to help entertain him this night. He told me to 
open the old piano and light a fire in the drawing room. 
He’s looking forward to hearing ye sing I’m thinking, and 
yer not to disappoint him. He’s been a much disappointed 
man already, and it’s not good fer him.” 

She drew Silver up the stairs to the bedroom where 
she had first taken her, and then gazed around with a grow¬ 
ing fury in her strong old face. 

“ The young viper! ” she exclaimed under her breath, 
“ I’ll teach her to upset orders! The master’s orders too! ” 

Before Silver could stop her she had seized an armful 
of silks and lingerie from the bed where Athalie had 
deposited them in her last trip, and rushed across the hall, 
throwing them in a heap on the floor of the room she had 
given Athalie, and was back for another. 

“ But you mustn’t! ” cried Silver, “ it will only make 
her angrier. Let her have the room she wants. I don’t 
care where I am put. If I stay at all, one room will do 
as well as another.” 

“ Indeed no! ” said Anne with fire in her eye, “ do you 
think I’m going to have the sacred room of the dear mis¬ 
tress profaned by a little devil like her? The master would 
in no wise allow her to enter here. He considers his aunt’s 
room as a holy place, and it shows where he feels you 
belong that he gave orders you should be put in here. Now 
my dear, you just sit down while I empty this closet in 
a trice, and then I’ll help you unpack your suitcase.” 

“ But Anne, I’m sure Athalie will lay this to me. She 


116 TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 

came in while I was up here and told me she wanted this 
room and I could go into the other one.” 

“ Did she indeed! The limb of Satan! Well, I’ll see 
that she understands you had nothing to do with it. I’m 
still housekeeper here I hope, and the master is still master! 
I’m not thinking he’ll take her impudence long.” She 
seized another armful ruthlessly and marched them across 
the hall, and in a brief space of time the closet was 
again cleared. 

“And look at the dear lady’s best black silk!” she 
crooned suddenly discovering the garments that Athalie 
had flung from their hooks to the floor, “it’s a desecration, 
it certainly is! If Miss Lavinia had lived to see the day 
that a huzzy like that that flaunts her nakedness before the 
gentlemen and tries to drag her womanhood in the dust by 
smoking the vile cigarettes like a man—! ” 

Anne drew her breath in a sob of grief and humiliation. 

“ I’m thinking she’s what they call in the newspapers a 
‘ flopper ’! And I never thought when I read about their 
like that we’d be having a real live flopper here in this 
blessed house the day! Aw! It’s a sorry day in the old 
house that’s always been that respectable! ” 

All the time she was babbling away in her intense voice 
her fingers were flying, making the room right once more. 
She straightened the cover of the little sewing table that 
had been twisted awry, pulled the winged chair back to 
its place, picked up a wisp of malines that had floated under 
the bed, and even produced a duster and wiped down the 
walls and shelves of the closet, shaking as it were the 
very dust from the alien garments out of the sacred 
chamber. 

Silver stood at the front window looking out across 
the field with troubled eyes, trying to think out the horri- 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


117 


ble situation. She was convinced that she ought not to 
have come, that she had followed her heart rather than 
her good judgment, and probably a bit selfishly and deter¬ 
minedly too, coming thus unannounced. She had wanted 
to forestall any attempt on the part of her father to refuse 
to see her. She had wanted him so, and now see! 

It took no very great stretch of imagination for her to 
realize that this other girl was in greater need of a father 
than she herself, Oh much greater! No matter how father¬ 
less or lonely she would be she would never be tempted 
to go in a wrong path or do anything to disgrace the family. 
She had been too well grounded in the things of righteous¬ 
ness for that. She was established. But this other girl 
was all too apparently self-willed, lawless, ungoverned, 
like a wild little craft set sail upon a stormy sea without 
a rudder, and liable to wreck not only herself but any 
others that happened in her path. 

Silver was accustomed to look on life in this way; to 
think of what would be good for others as well as herself. 
Her conscience had been well trained and was in good work¬ 
ing order. If she became convinced that she ought to go 
no argument would keep her there. She had a duty toward 
life to perform and her highest aim was to perform it 
aright. She was as utterly different from the other 
daughter as two human souls could well be. And how 
could there ever be harmony in such an ill assorted 
household ? 

Into the midst of her thoughts came a summons from 
her father. Would she come down to the library and talk 
something over with himself and his guest as soon as she 
was ready for dinner? 

Anne nodded approval. That settled it. She must 


118 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


hurry and get ready. Had she another dress, or did she 
wish just to wear her suit. 

Silver, realizing that this was no time to parley when 
her father had a guest, hastily shook out of her suitcase 
a little silk crepe dress that fell about her like the soft 
shadows of evening, the color of twilight with gleams of 
silver in the fastenings that reminded one of the afterglow 
in the sunset sky, and set off her delicate complexion and the 
gold of her hair, making her eyes starry. The little cloud 
of worry on her brow only brought out the sweet thought¬ 
fulness and made her more like her mother, as she entered 
the library a few minutes later. Her father could scarcely 
take his eyes from her face. The wonder of it that Alice’s 
face and form had come back in the person of her child! 
The sorrow of it that he had not had the patience to wait 
for this and enjoy the privilege of seeing it grow! The 
selfishness of himself! 

Bannard had a work down among the foreigners of 
Frogtown. He had a plan for a school for them that they 
might learn English and be fitted to take out citizen’s 
papers. He wanted a class in cooking and sewing for 
the mothers, and meetings where they might learn 
American ways, and how to care for their children and 
make their homes sanitary and attractive. He wanted a 
meeting place for them and some men and women with tact 
and love of humanity to come down and help him. He 
had been waiting for Professor Greeves to arrive feeling 
that he would be the very one to help him get the educa¬ 
tional department started. There was a small room over 
a grocery they could have for the present. It was lighted 
with lamps and heated by a small box stove, but warm 
weather was coming, they could even meet out of doors 
somewhere.down by the river. 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


119 


“ Why not build a hall, a gymnasium or something of 
the sort, with accommodation for all the different classes ? 
It oughtn’t to cost much. It wouldn’t have to be elaborate. 
I’ll look after the financial part. I’d be glad to give some¬ 
thing to a work like that.” 

u Oh, father! Can you do that? ” Silver’s eyes were 
large with wonder and joy. Money had not been in over¬ 
abundance in the little parsonage where the Jarvises lived. 
Greeves looked sharply, keenly at his daughter. Was it 
possible that there had been any lack in her life that money 
might have supplied ? He had sent presents now and then, 
a hundred dollars or so. Why had it never occurred to 
him to send more? His own child never having a real 
part in his abundant worldly possessions. He began to 
see more and more how wrong he had been to separate 
himself from her. And yet, how sweet and unspoiled she 
[was! That other one, Athalie, had had an abundant income 
stipulated by the court, and see what she had become! 
Perhaps it had been better for Silver to have been brought 
up without riches. That was the way her dear mother 
had been reared. Ah! but it all shut him out of her life, 
and he had had the right to be in it and had thrown it away! 
Well! he would make up for it now all he could, but he 
could not go back and gather from the years the precious 
experiences that were gone forever. 

They talked until the silver-tongued gong sounded 
through the house for dinner, and then, still quite absorbed 
in their theme they went out to the dining room, forgetting 
that there was aught in the world save beautiful plans for 
the uplifting of others. And there, like an arrogant young 
goddess stood Athalie, still in her silver and coral undress 
as she had been in the garden, with only the addition of a 
wide coral colored ribbon, the kind her girl friends called 


120 TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 

a “ headache band ” drawn firmly over her forehead from 
the little sketchy uplifted eyebrows, to the crown of her 
head, the ends concealed in some mysterious way under 
the shock of outlandish hair somewhere in the neighbor¬ 
hood of where her ears ought to be. She had arrived un¬ 
bidden on the scene the moment the dinner gong sounded 
and stood like an apparition, belligerent and sullen behind 
a chair at the foot of the table, eyeing her father defiantly. 

There had been a pleased smile on his face as he entered, 
his hand just touching Silver’s arm caressingly, but when 
he saw her he stopped short and a stern angry look came 
into his eyes. It was not a baffled look as Athalie had 
counted upon. She felt that he had weakened during that 
scene on the terrace, and she could dare anything, but 
she saw a light in his eyes that boded no good for the 
one who disobeyed his orders. His eyes gave one full 
glance at the bare arms and neck, the low tight silver bodice 
with its straps of tiny coral roses, the flimsy draperies, and 
his lips set sternly, then he looked away and ignored her 
presence. This was not the time for further demonstra¬ 
tion. He was a gentleman. He would deal with her later. 
Yet all through the meal as he spoke to the others his voice 
was harsh, restrained. They could see that he was very 
angry. His attitude perhaps awed the girl, or else she 
was very hungry, for she said not a word except to demand 
second helpings of everything from the servants. For the 
rest she maintained a sullen silence, her eyes on her plate, 
only now and then raising them in a blank stare of amaze¬ 
ment at Bannard when he spoke of his church and his 
work with earnest enthusiasm. She had never met any 
one like him before. Also, she was angry that he ignored 
her so utterly, giving his entire attention to Silver and 
her father. 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 121 

Everyone was glad when the meal was concluded. It 
had been a particularly trying time to Silver. And as 
they rose from the table the master of the house said 
almost sternly: 

“ Now we will go into the drawing room and have 
some music.” His eyes dwelt on Silver lovingly, but 
something in the tone told Athalie that she was excluded 
from the company. As he stepped back to let the ladies 
pass through the door Bannard caught a look of hate on 
the face of Athalie that almost startled him in one so 
young. Yet she did not slip away as he had supposed 
she would after the snub she had received at the table. 
She followed, slowly, almost stealthily toward the heavy 
crimson curtains of the wide doorway, as if she had some 
evil intent in her going. 

Old Joe had built a fire in the fireplace and the flames 
flickered and leaped rosily on the white marble mantel, 
making shadows and fitful lights on the high ceiling as 
they entered, and giving a look to the life-like paintings 
on the wall as if the owners were there awaiting them. 
They stepped within and Greeves touched the switch and 
flooded the room with electric light. Old Standish Silver 
had been a progressive man and the house had been wired 
as soon as electricity for lighting had come to Silver Sands. 
It flared up garishly now and brought the sleeping portraits 
to life, and instinctively all eyes were raised to the painting 
over the mantel, where special lights had been placed to 
show it to advantage. 

Joe Quinn had been mending the fire and was just 
backing away, Anne Truesdale was hovering uneasily 
beside the curtain, wondering how she could extract the 
fly from the ointment. The minister and Silver stood 
within the doorway at one side, with Athalie still defiant 


122 TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 

just behind them, when Patterson Greeves stepped within 
and looked up. They all looked up, and breath was sus¬ 
pended. For there rose the lovely face of Alice Jarvis 
within her gilded frame, smeared and disfigured with 
chocolate, covering the sweet lips, dripping down the 
curve of cheek and chin grotesquely! And there below 
with bold sensuous challenge, exulted the pictured eyes 
of Lilia! 


XII 


There was a tense moment during which all eyes were 
fastened with a horrible fascination on the desecrated pic¬ 
ture. Then Patterson Greeves’ army-officer voice rang out 
like cut steel. 

“ Who perpetrated that ? ” 

His face had grown so white that it frightened Silver 
to look at him. Athalie instinctively withdrew to the 
shelter of the portiere. He stood looking around on the 
group, slowly from one face to another, beginning with old 
Joe, who had halted midway to the door and was ashy 
under his weather tanned skin, answering back his master’s 
severe gaze with brave frightened eyes. 

“ I dunno, sir. I ain’t seen it, sir, before, sir! It was 
that dark when I come in to light the fire I didn’t look 
up, sir! ” 

The look passed on, steadily, unflinchingly, recogniz¬ 
ing the sympathy in the eyes of Bannard and Silver only 
by a quiver of the set upper lip. He read the face of Anne 
Truesdale like a book. It said in every quiver of indignant 
lip and fiery eye that she was not to blame, though she 
could tell him where to search for the culprit, and only 
awaited a word from him to turn the tide of retribution 
as it certainly ought to be turned. So his eyes came to 
rest upon the daring, unsorry face of his younger daughter, 
peering out eerily as if relishing the denouement of 
her escapade. 

No one dared turn and look at her. It would seem 
that look of her father’s must have scorched her soul, 
so full it was of outraged pride and love and sanctity. She 
must have learned from it at once how deep her arrow had 

123 


124 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


gone in his soul, how much he had cared for that woman 
in the golden frame. How impossible it had been for 
him ever to care for her own mother like that. How really 
futile in the light of that look her mission in the house 
had become. Yet part spirit of his spirit, she dared him 
back with a glance as steady, as haughty, even while she 
trembled visibly at what she had invoked. It was as 
though she had been the embodiment of all his mistakes 
and sins come to mock him. So their eyes clashed, and 
the man with one final thrust of judgment and con¬ 
demnation in the flash of his eye, turned back once more 
to the profaned picture. 

It was then for the first time that he saw the portrait 
beneath it, set out in the clear detail of perfect photography, 
as beautiful yet sensuous, as dauntless, as abandoned in 
every line of supple body and smiling face as the daughter 
whose hand had placed her there. 

A low exclamation of horror burst from his lips and 
he strode forward, white with anger and struck it full 
in the faithless smiling face till the glass shivered in fine 
fragments on the white of the marble below and the blood 
ran down in drops from his hand. 

He was beside himself with fury now, and snatching 
the picture, frame and all, he dashed it to the hearth and 
ground it beneath his heel. 

Then out from behind the heavy curtain, with a wild 
cry like a young tigress, darted Athalie and flung herself 
upon him, beating him back with her hands and 
screaming out: 

“Stop! Stop! You shall not! That is Lilia! That 
is my mother! Ohhh! ” and her cries were like the rending 
heart of an infuriated creature who had never been 
controlled. 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


1 25 


She pushed him off by main force and crouching low 
with raining tears gathered up the fragments of the pic¬ 
ture and clasped them to her breast. Standing thus she 
faced her father, a glare of hate in her black glittering eyes 
and looked him down even as he had looked at her and 
all who witnessed could not but see a resemblance to him 
in her eyes and attitude. 

“You murderer!” she hissed between her painted 
lips. She ground her teeth audibly, and repeated, “ you 
murderer! ” and then she suddenly reached out with one 
hand and seized a large triangle of glass that still remained 
on the edge of the marble shelf, and hurled it with all 
her force straight into the face of the wonderful painting 
above her, where it cut a deep jagged gash between the 
lovely eyes, and fell in a thousand pieces below. 

As the glass slithered through the canvas Athalie gave 
a scream like a lost soul and darted from the room, almost 
knocking over the white and frightened Truesdale in her 
flight, and tore up the stairway to her room, slamming 
the door with a thunderous sound behind her and flinging 
herself with wild weeping upon her bed. 

Meantime Blink had arrived at the front door with 
his offering of worms, and had rung several times before 
Molly, who thought Joe and Anne were engaged in the 
drawing room about the fire and lights, had slipped to the 
door and let him in, bidding him wait in the front hall 
until the housekeeper came to show him where to go. 
Blink had stood by the door, his cap in his hand, and been 
a most unwilling witness to the whole awful scene, with 
its climax of flying coral gauzes, pink flesh and silver slip¬ 
pers hurled up the distant staircase. He stood for an instant 
uncertain what to do, and then with innate courtesy stepped 
to the door of the darkened library where only a dying 


126 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


fire flickered on the hearth, and slipped within. At least 
in here, they would think he had not heard. He dropped 
silently into one of the great leather chairs at the farther 
end of the room, and tried to think what it all might mean 
and what connection it had with the girl who had climbed 
out the second story window and telephoned to a man in 
the city. 

It was most silent in the big drawing room after 
Athalie left. No one dared hardly to breathe. Patterson 
Greeves stood white and dazed, gazing up at the injured 
picture, with a stricken look upon his face, as if he had 
suddenly seen a loved one put to death. For an instant 
he looked in silence, then uncertainly he put up his hands 
and rubbed them across his eyes as if he were not seeing 
aright. It was as if the mutilated eyes of the picture were 
accusing him. He turned a pleading pitiful look on the 
group standing about him, and with a moan he suddenly 
dropped into a chair, burying his face in his hands and 
relapsing into an awful silence. 

“ Dontee, dontee, master Pat, dearie! ” crooned Anne 
Truesdale, in her sorrow forgetting the presence of the 
others and relapsing into his childhood’s vernacular, 
“ she’s only a naughty child! She didn’t mean—she 
doesn’t know—! ” 

A great shudder passed over the man’s body, and 
the woman gave a frightened look toward the other two 
and retreated. 

Bannard stepped forward. 

“Get that washed off the picture, can’t you?” he 
whispered, “ and sweep up the glass ? ” Anne Truesdale 
vanished, glad to have something tangible to do. 

Bannard stepped to his host’s side and put a firm 
hand on his shoulder. 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


127 


“ Come, Greeves, don’t lose your nerve. This isn’t 
nearly as bad as it seems—! ” 

The man groaned and shuddered again. 

“ It really isn’t you know. The woman was right. 
She’s only a naughty ungoverned child. And besides, 
you’ve another little girl to think about—” Greeves raised 
his eyes to the sorrowful girl in the doorway and Silver 
crept to her father’s side and knelt, slipping her arm within 
his and putting her face close to his. 

“ I’m afraid this is all my fault, father,” she said with 
a catch in her voice, “ I ought not to have come. I knew 
as soon as I saw her. It hurt her you know to have me 
here. She wanted your love for herself—” 

The man stirred uneasily and lifted his head drawing 
his arm around her. 

“ Don’t say that again! ” he commanded sternly, “ she 
is worse than nothing to me! Never can be or could be!—” 
Anne had come in with soft cloths and a basin of 
warm water followed by Joe with a step ladder, brush, 
and dust pan. They tiptoed in silently, awesomely, as if 
to a place where a murder had been committed. They 
did their work swiftly and well and withdrew. The 
master of the house remained with his head down resting 
on one hand, the other arm still encircling his daughter. 
Bannard stood a little to one side thoughtfully until the 
servants were gone. Then he raised his eyes to the picture. 

“ Come, Greeves,” he said with relief in his voice, “ it’s 
not so bad at all. I’m sure it can be fixed. They mend 
those things so you’d never know. And it isn’t as if the 
artist were dead. You can have him touch it up himself—” 
Patterson Greeves arose shakingly, his arm still about 
his daughter, who slipped up from his knees and stood 


ns 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


beside him. The father gazed agonizedly up at the pic¬ 
ture, tears blurring into his eyes. 

“ The little devil! ” he murmured, “ that’s what she 
is! A little hell cat 1 ” 

“ Oh, I wouldn’t talk that way, friend! ” Bannard’s 
hearty voice was like a breeze from a wind-swept meadow 
driving the sick miasms away from the room. “ Nothing- 
gained by that. Try to go back of her and see what has 
made her like this.” 

“ Do you mean to say I’m to blame for her devilish¬ 
ness ? ” Greeves demanded excitedly. 

“ I wasn’t saying who was to blame, my friend, I was 
merely suggesting that you might look farther into the 
matter before you feel in utter despair. The mother is 
responsible for a lot, I should say, but your problem is 
not who is to blame, but what can you do about it.” 

“ I shall send her away at once, either to some school 
where she will be made to behave, or else back, back to the 
mother who made her what she is.” The man’s tone was 
hard, unforgiving, uncompromising. “ I shall make her 
take her back. Money will do it! ” 

“ Then you would be to blame! ” flashed Bannard. 
“ What! would you give her no opportunity ever? Would 
you force her to remain what she is ? ” 

“ I would get her out of my sight forever.” 

“ Isn’t that just where you made your mistake before? 
Pardon me. I realize that I know nothing about the matter. 
It is only a suggestion.” 

“ You do think I’m responsible for having a child 
like that! ” 

“Well, isn’t a father responsible? Isn’t that what 
God meant he should be? ” 

Silver had moved away from her father and was stand- 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


129 

ing by the mantel looking up at the pictured eyes of her 
mother, her eyes full of wistfulness. Her father began a 
restless striding up and down the room, answering nothing, 
now and then tossing back his head in an impatient way 
he had. At last he wheeled and faced Bannard. 

“ I cannot think there is any fairness in that,” he said 
harshly and took another turn across the room. Then 
coming back with more of a grip upon himself he said: 

“ But I have made scene enough of this day. I had 
hoped you were to be my friend. If you stand this test 
you will indeed be a friend. I must thrash this thing out 
by myself. Let us forget it if you can and endeavor to 
wrest a little friendship at least from the evening. We 
came in here to have some music and I have exhibited a 
family skeleton instead. Let us close the door on it for 
the night and do something else. My daughter, after all 
this are you equal to giving us a little music? ” 

The girl forced a smile and came quickly toward the 
piano. “ Anything that will please you father,” she said 
with an attempt at brightness. 

Bannard opened the old grand piano and drew out 
the creaking stool with the hair-cloth cushion, and as 
Silver seated herself it suddenly came over her that here she 
was in the old ancestral home, sitting at the piano where 
others who were gone had often sat bringing sweet strains 
from the old instrument. It thrilled her to realize that 
she was really here at last in the home she had so long 
dreamed about. She touched the keys tenderly, and there 
came forth a sound as if she had caressed them. Her father 
settled down in the old tapestry chair and shaded his eyes 
with his hand, watching her graceful outline of head and 
neck and shoulders, and the sweeping curve of the young 
body as it swayed gently to the music. 

9 


130 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


Over in the library Barry Lincoln nestled back in the 
big chair and closed his eyes to let the music sweep over 
his soul, while the fire burned low and fell in bright spar¬ 
kles among the ashes, and a long young angle worm 
from the can in Barry’s lap struggled up and out and over 
draping itself in an arabesque, perhaps in some modern 
attempt to interpret the music. 

Upstairs in the bed in a tumbled heap of coral and 
silver Athalie clasped the bits of her mother’s broken 
picture to what heart she had and wept and wailed, “Oh, 
Lilia! Lilia! Lilia! Why did you send me here ? ” 

But not even Anne Truesdale, white and anxious down 
in the back hall listening for developments, and trembling 
with weariness, heard. 


XIII 


Diagonally across the street, about a furlong from 
the Silver place, next to the meadow, whose white picket 
fence bordered, and whose old brindle cow thrived on, 
the meadow, stood a small brick cottage, somewhat Anne- 
Hathaway style in architecture, low and thatchy, with 
moss on the roof and sunk deep in the thick green turf. 
It had a swing gate with an iron weight on a chain to make 
it latch, and a lilac bush leaning so low that the visitor 
had to duck his head to enter. 

The household was entirely feminine, and they looked 
on the cow and the old yellow cats as their protectors. 
They were called the “ Vandemeeter girls ” though the 
mother and the ancient grandmother were still of the com¬ 
pany. There were three elderly spinsters, Maria, Cordelia, 
and Henrietta. There was also a niece, daughter of a 
fourth sister long since dead, who rejoiced in the name 
of Pristina Appleby. Pristina was “ thirty-five if she was 
a day ” according to Ellen Follinsbee the Silver Sands 
dressmaker who always wore pins in her mouth and kept 
the other corner open to pass on pleasant conversation. 

Pristina was tall and thin and spent much time study¬ 
ing the fashion magazines and sending for all the articles 
in the advertising pages. She sang in the choir and her 
voice was still good though a trifle shrill on the high notes. 
She held her book with elbows stiffened and always opened 
her mouth round and wide, and she took care to have 
plenty of fresh changes of garments, and always got a 
new hat four times a year. She felt it was due to her 
position as first soprano, although it was not a paying 

131 


132 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


proposition, and frequently required much sacrifice of 
necessities to compass it. They were a progressive family 
and took several family magazines besides a church paper 
and the Silver Sands Bulletin . Pristina belonged to a 
literary club entitled “ The Honey Gatherers ” and sipped 
knowledge early and late. She had recently been appointed 
to write a paper on some modern author and had chosen 
Patterson Greeves, “ Our noted townsman ” as the first 
sentence stated, and waded through quartos of technical 
works, and thoroughly mastered the terms of bacteriolo¬ 
gists in order to do her subject justice. Maria and 
Henrietta had not approved. They thought the choice of 
a divorced man, especially as he was reported to be return¬ 
ing to his native town to live, not a delicate thing for a 
young girl to do. Cordelia maintained that it was a part 
of the strange times they were living in, and added: “Look 
at the flappers! ” 

“ Well, I never supposed we’d, have a flapper in our 
family,” said grandma sadly. “ The Vandemeeters were 
always respectable. < Poor, but always respectable.^’ 

“Now, ma, who says Pristina ain’t respectable?” 
bristled mother appearing in the kitchen door with a 
bread pan in one hand and a lump of lard in the other. 
“ Pristina has her life to live, ain’t sKe.?, I guess she’s got 
to think of that.” 

They all looked at Pristina standing tall and straight, 
her abundant brown locks piled high in a coil on the crown 
of her head, a little too much of her slim white ears show¬ 
ing, a faint natural flush in the hollows under her high 
cheek bones, the neck of her brown voile guarding well the 
hollow of her throat, and her bony arms encased in full 
length bell sleeves. She wore sensible high buttoned shoes 
(with the addition of tan spats in winter) and her dresses 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


133 


were never higher than eight inches from the ground, even 
at the highest water mark of short dresses. Yet she 
seemed to them most modern. They could not have been 
more worried if she had taken to chewing gum. She was 
the kind of woman you would pick out for a good step¬ 
mother of eight. Conscientious and willing to take what 
was left. 

“ That’s all right, Pristina. Write your paper the 
way you want. You have to follow your own bent,” 
said mother. 

And Pristina wrote her paper. 

Grandma and the three girls talked it over once when 
mother was setting cakes for breakfast. 

“ You don’t suppose Pristina is getting notions about 
Pat Greeves, do you? ” suggested Cordelia. 

“ Gracious! ” said grandma dropping her knitting, 
“ what put that into your head? ” 

“ Oh, nothing—only, she’s so anxious to write that 
paper and all. And it wouldn’t be strange. She’s young 
you know.” 

“ Well, I should hope she’d have sense enough not to 
think of marrying a divorced man. That wouldn’t be 
respectable! And she a church singer! ” This from Maria. 

“ Patterson Greeves isn’t so young any more you’ll 
kindly remember!” said Henrietta pursing her lips. 
Patterson Greeves had been a senior in high school with 
Henrietta. They might all remember that he gave her a 
bouquet of jacqueminot roses when she graduated. 

“ That’s nothing!” said Cordelia, “old men always 
pick out young girls.” 

“ He’s not old! ” said Henrietta. 

“ You just said he wasn’t young. Oh, well! I only 
suggested it. I shouldn’t like to see Pristina get notions. 


134 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


That man has lived abroad. And he’s lived in New York. 
He’s no fit mate for a girl like Pristina. But then, I don’t 
suppose he’d look at her. Only as I say, I hope she doesn’t 
get notions.” 

“ We’ve always been respectable,” said grandma. “It’s 
likely Pristina knows that. She’s rather respectable her¬ 
self. You remember how she wouldn’t let that young drug 
clerk hold her hand. Blood will tell generally. I 
wouldn’t worry.” 

But after the paper had been read before “ The Honey 
Gatherers,” Mrs. Arden Philips, the wife of the post¬ 
master, dropped in with some cross stitch embroidery 
doilies for her new hardwood table and casually asked: 

“ Henrietta never kept up her acquaintance with Pat 
Greeves did she ? ” 

Mrs. Arden Philips used to be Ruby Hathaway of 
the same class in high school. 

“Henrietta?” said Cordelia looking sharply at that 
sister. 

“Henrietta!” exclaimed Maria contemptuously as if 
Henrietta had somehow endeavored to outclass her sisters. 

“ Mercy, no! ” said Henrietta. “ Why Ruby he’s a 
married man, very much married. What makes you ask 
that? It’s years since I’ve heard a word of him.” 

“ Well, I told Julia Ellen so. After Pristina read that 
paper there was a great to do about it, how she got to 
know so much about him, and then Julia Ellen and Jane 
Harris both remembered that he was sweet on Henrietta 
once, and we thought maybe—although Arden said he 
never noticed any foreign letters coming. Well, Henrietta, 
how did Pristina come to find out so much about Pat 
Greeves anyhow? All that about his books on bugs, and 
how he came to be called to those colleges and everything. 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


135 


I’m sure Miss Lavinia Silver never told anything. She 
was so close mouthed. She always just smiled and said 
something pleasant and you came away knowing no more 
than when you went.” 

“ She got it out of some sort of an encyclopedia/’ said 
grandma indignantly, “ it began with Bi, I forget the name 
of it. She took it out of the library. It had a lot of other 
great men in it. She read it all aloud to us. And then 
she sent for his book to the city and studied that a lot. 
It wasn’t very interesting. I tried to read it one day but 
it had a lot of words I never saw before. Pristina said 
they were names of animals and bugs that lived before 
the foundation of the world or long about. I’m sure I 
don’t know. But Pristina is real smart. She believes in 
patronizing home talent. I thought it was a bright idea 
myself, telling people about him before he came back to 
live here.” 

“ Why yes, of course! ” said Mrs. Arden Philips, look¬ 
ing sharply at grandma, “that’s what I said; but then people 
will talk you know. But if I was Pristina I wouldn’t mind 
in the least. It’ll all blow over, and Pristina’s reputation 
can stand a little whisper now and then I guess. But say, 
wouldn’t it be interesting, thinking back to how he used 
to like Henrietta, if he should make up to Pristina some¬ 
time ? Quite romantic, I say. Aunt and niece, you know. 
It might be.” 

“ Nonsense! He’s too old! ” said Henrietta sharply. 

“ Besides he’s divorced! ” said Maria with pursed lips. 

“ Yes, of course,” said the visitor, “ but they do say 
in the city, that doesn’t count so much, and besides, he’s 
lived in the city so long he probably doesn’t know the 
difference. It isn’t as if he’d lived here always and kept 
Silver Sand’s standards. I heard the new school superin- 


136 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


tendent say in the Home and School the other day \t was 
standards counted. And he can’t help his standards 
can he ? ” 

“ We’ve always been respectable! ” said grandma 
sharply, “and I hope we’ll always stay so. Pristina has 
standards if Standish Silver’s nephew has lost his! Ruby 
did your grandmother send you that receipe for strawberry 
preserve? My daughter was wishing she could get it.” 

“ Yes, I have it. I’ll copy it off for you. Well, I must 
be going. We’re having the minister to supper tonight. 
I only just dropped in to satisfy myself that I had told 
the truth to Julia Ellen. I never like to sleep on a lie. I was 
real sure Pristina hadn’t been corresponding with him.” 

There was silence in the room while Maria went to the 
door with the visitor, and until she had reached the picket 
gate and the iron weight had swung back and clicked 
against the chain as it always did when the gate shut 
after any one. Then grandma’s pursed lips relaxed and 
her needles began to click. 

“ Cat! ” said Henrietta, “ she always was jealous about 
those roses! ” 

That happened three months before Patterson Greeves 
came home. Nothing more was said in the Vandemeeter 
home about the matter, but whenever Anne Truesdale 
opened and aired the front rooms, or stuck pillows out of 
the windows in the sunshine for a few minutes, “ the 
girls ” took occasion to glance over and wonder. And 
when at last the signs of a more thorough housecleaning 
than had gone on in years became unmistakable, grandma 
had her padded rocking chair moved to the side window 
where she could watch the house all day long. She declared 
the light was poor at the front window where she had 
been accustomed to sit. When the news of the imminent 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


137 


arrival went forth officially, Pristina went up to town and 
bought her new spring hat. It would not do to look shabby 
on the first Sunday of the noted man’s arrival. After 
that the Vandemeeters were in a state of continual twitter, 
making errands to the front window on the slightest possi¬ 
ble excuse, and always glancing out across. 

“ I declare it looks good to see the house alive again/’ 
said mother. “ I can almost think I see Miss Lavinia’s 
white hair at the window over there. My! If she were 
only back! ” 

“ It’s a good thing she’s not! ” said grandma sepul- 
chrally, “ it couldn’t mean anything else but suffering to 
have her nephew come home divorced! ” 

“ Well, I don’t know about that, mother,” said her 
white haired daughter, “ there’s some women you’re better 
divorced from. You know even the Bible says that! ” 
“Well, why did he marry her then? That’s what 
I’d like to know. A boy brought up the way he was, why 
did he marry hert Oh, you can’t tell me.y'He just went 
and got into the nasty ways of the world, the flesh and 
devil! That’s what’s the matter. If he’d just come to 
his home town and taken a good sweet girl he’d known 
all his life—” 

“ There now, mother, for mercy’s sake don’t say that. 
Somebody might think you meant one of ours! ” 

The curtains were in requisition at every side window 
of the Vandemeeter house the night that Patterson Greeves 
came home. Henrietta at her chamber window high in 
the peak of the roof noted the gray hair crisply short 
beneath his soft hat, and the slight stoop in his shoulders, 
and said to herself quite softly: 

“ Goodness! do I look as old as that ? ” 

They watched the house quite carefully until the lights 


1S8 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


from the side windows announced the dinner hour in the 
house across the way and then they retired to their own 
belated meal. While they were eating it Henrietta on 
a visit to the kitchen for hot water for grandma’s tea 
spied the red glow in the sky and called them all to the 
back kitchen window, else they would have seen their 
neighbor vault the fence and sprint down the meadow 
to the fire. 

But the next morning they were up betimes and keep¬ 
ing tab from every window spryly. 

When the big racing car drew up in front of the house 
and Athalie got out they were fairly paralyzed 
with astonishment. 

“ Perhaps he isn’t divorced after all,” said mother in 
a mollified voice. 

“ Yes, he is,” insisted Pristina, “ I read it to you 
from the Biographical Encyclopedia. A book like that, 
that’s in all libraries, wouldn’t make a mistake.” 

“ Well, maybe he’s married again,” said Cordelia. 
“ That’s what they do nowadays! ” 

“ I don’t believe he would! Not with his bringing 
up! ” said mother. “ He couldn't! ” 

“ Well, the law allows it! ” snapped Maria. “ That’s 
why I’m glad I can vote. There ought to be laws 1 ” 

“Well, who is she then? ” asked grandma petulantly. 

“ She’s young,” announced Pristina who had the best 
eyes for far seeing, “and her cheeks are awfully red.” 

“ She’s painted! ” said Maria, “ that’s the kind! Maybe 
she’s—! ” 

“Maria!” said her mother, and made eyes toward 
Pristina, “ you shouldn’t say such things.” 

“I didn’t say anything, mother, I was going to say 
maybe she is just some friend of his wife’s. Or maybe 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


139 


she is a secretary. Writers have secretaries. I’ve read 
about them.” 

“ I should think it would be more proper to have a 
man!” said grandma. “There’s no excuse for a man 
having a girl always around him. If he does a thing like 
that I should think it was plain nobody ought to recog¬ 
nize him.” 

“ Well, she’s taking an awful while saying good-bye 
to the man that brought her! ” declared Cordelia. “ Per¬ 
haps he’s her father. He looks old enough to be. He’s 
held her hand all this time. Why, she’s only a child. 
Look, she’s got short hair! ” 

“ That’s bobbed! ” said Pristina in disdain, “ I should 
think you’d know that Aunt Cordelia. Plenty of the 
young girls in Silver Sands have had their hair bobbed.” 

“ Oh, yes, bobbed. Oh, yes, young girls! But not 
like that!” 

“ There goes the minister in! ” announced Henrietta 
a little later. “ I wonder why? He’s not the kind that 
todies to rich people.” 

“ He would think he owed respect to the relative of 
so prominent a former member of his church,” suggested 
mother. “ The Silver family really gave the money to 
build that church you know. Gave the lot anyway.” 

“ I hope the minister is not going to countenance 
divorce,” said grandma with a troubled look out the win¬ 
dow over her spectacles. 

“ He preached against it two weeks ago,” contributed 
Pristina, her hands clasped on the window fastening, her 
chin on her hands. 

“ Perhaps he doesn’t know about Patterson Greeves,” 
said Maria. “ Somebody ought to have told him.” 

“ He’s coming out again. Perhaps Mr. Greeves 


140 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


wouldn’t see him. There’s his car. That rowdy Lincoln 
boy driving it again. What the minister sees in him! ” 
announced Cordelia. “ See, he’s hurrying. I wonder 
what’s the matter.” 

“ Perhaps he’s just found out,” suggested grandma. 

Speculation ran rife, and the watchers hovered not 
far from the windows, doing extra dusting in the front 
sitting room to keep near. It was almost like the time 
when the circus rented the meadow for a week and they 
could watch the rhinoceros and giraffe go to bed at night. 
None of them really admitted they were watching until 
suddenly the minister’s car drew up in front of the 
Silver house. 

“ He’s back! ” said Pristina glued to the window, “and 
there’s another woman—no, girl with him! ” 

“ It looks as if there might be going to be a wedding! ” 
declared Maria primly, “ I declare some men are the 
biggest fools! You’d think after two experiences he’d 
be satisfied. Oh, Men! Men! Men! I’ve no patience 
with them.” 

“ Well, I certainly don’t think much of a woman that 
comes to his house to get married! ” said Pristina. “ I 
wonder our minister ha*s anything to do with it.” 

“A woman that will marry a divorced man, too,” 
sighed grandma. 

“ Well, I wonder which one it is, the first one or this 
one?” questioned Pristina. “They both look awfully 
yotmg. Perhaps they don’t know a thing about him.” 

“ And neither do you,” said mother, “ Pristina why 
don’t you take that cake over that you baked for the sew¬ 
ing circle tomorrow? You’ve plenty of time to make 
another before the circle, and anyhow now you’ve found 
out Stella Squires has made a chocolate cake it would be 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


141 


better for you to make some other kind, say marble cake 
or a cocoanut. If they’re going to have a wedding it would 
be nice in the neighbors to help out a little.” 

“ I think I’ll find out whether there is a wedding or 
not first,” said Pristina with a toss of her head. “ We’ll 
eat the chocolate cake ourselves. I’m going to cut a big 
piece now.” 

Pristina was like that sometimes. And when she was 
the aunts looked at her in a hopeless sort of way and kept 
still. They called it the “ Appleby ” in her. 

All day long they kept their watch upon the house. 
When Silver and her father came out to walk after lunch, 
they huddled anxiously at the window, and commented. 
This was the bride probably, and the other one—who was 
the other one ? Bridesmaid or secretary ? It was hard to 
decide. 

While they were still discussing it Athalie’s trunks 
arrived, and brought them all to the window again. 

“ Upon my word, there must be more coming! ” said 
Pristina from her window. “ Look at the trunks. They 
surely wouldn’t have more than one apiece.” 

“ A bride might have two,” suggested mother. 

“ Yes. You know New York! They’re very extrava¬ 
gant livers! ” declared Maria who had had the advantage of 
a week in New York when she was sixteen and had been 
going on the strength of it ever since and claiming obeisance 
from her family therefrom. 

“ Well, even so. Count them. One, two, three, four! 
Are those others boxes ? They must have books in them. 
They probably belong to Mr. Greeves. But the girl that 
came first had her baggage with her. She wouldn’t be 
wanting a trunk.” 

“ Well, there’s one apiece and one over besides the 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


142 

boxes/’ said Henrietta. " A man wouldn’t want a trunk 
would he? Not if he carried his books in boxes. What 
would a man find to put in a trunk? ” 

“ His clothes, of course,” said Cordelia sharply. 

“ But a man has so few clothes. Just a suit or two. 
It seems as if he could hardly fill a trunk with those. Per¬ 
haps he brought home relics from the war. If he did I 
certainly do hope we get a chance to see them.” 

“ Perhaps, sometime, if they’re away Mrs. Truesdale 
will ask you in quietly to see them,” suggested mother. 

“ Those trunks are enormous! See, grandma, they 
had to get Hank Lawson to help carry that one in. I 
think that’s scandalous! ” This from Maria. 

The shades of night settled down and left them still 
wondering. 

“ There’s a light in Miss Lavinia’s room. It’s strange 
they’d let anybody be put in there! ” 

“ Maybe he took that room himself! ” suggested 
grandma. 

Arden Philips and his wife ran in on their way to a 
committee meeting at the town hall, something about a 
supper to be given in the fire house as soon as the first 
strawberries were ripe. They settled into the window 
seats and asked everything that had happened all day. 
Arden contributed the fact that a great pile of mail had 
come for Mr. Greeves and among them three from New 
York City. 

“ Whatever became of that child of Pat Greeves ? ” 
asked Mrs. Philips loosening her silk wrap and throwing 
it back to adjust a long string of green beads slung around 
her scrawny neck and looping down below her waist! 
“ Did it live? Boy, wasn’t it? ” 

She was a tiny wiry little woman with bright beads of 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


143 


eyes and the quick restless motions of a bird. She perched 
on the edge of her chair and looked quickly from one to 
another as she talked. 

“ Girl,” said grandma pursing her lips and looking 
over her spectacles. “ It was a girl. He gave it to its 
mother’s parents. I heard they didn’t have much to do 
with one another.” 

“ Well, I should think not! ” said Ruby Philips. “ A 
man that would marry again! ” Mrs. Philips didn’t believe 
in second marriages. 

“ And then get divorced! ” reminded grandma. 

“ Well poor thing. I hope she hasn’t suffered from 
her father’s sins,” said Maria righteously. 

“ Now Maria,” reproved mother, “ you’re going a 
little fur. You don’t really know that her father sinned.” 

“Well, he got divorced, didn’t he?” 

“ Yes, but Maria, he might uv had to—you know it 
isn’t always the men's fault.” 

It’s pretty generally the men’s fault, I guess,” declared 
Maria, tossing her chin. “ I thank goodness I never got 
tied up to one.” 

“Well, Maria, I don’t think you’re very polite to 
Arden,” said Mrs. Arden, rising with a flame in each cheek. 

“ Oh, Arden’s Arden, of course. Besides he’s my 
third cousin. And present company is always excepted 
you know,” laughed Maria sharply. 

Mrs. Arden drew her cape around her briskly and 
stepped toward the door. There was still a stiffness in 
her voice. She pursed her thin lips as if her mouth shut 
with a drawstring like a bag of marbles. 

“ Well, I must say I don’t like insinuations, even when 
it’s a joke,” she said coldly, “ come Arden, we’ll be late 
to that meeting. You’d think if there was a wedding he’d 


144 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


invite someone from the town, just for old time’s sake, 
wouldn’t you ? Of course the minister; but he’s a compara¬ 
tive stranger, and he has to have him. Well, I suppose 
we’ll know sometime. Good night.’ ’ 

Arden, drab and homely, with blue eyes and light eye¬ 
lashes followed her obediently out with an air of getting 
in the way of his own feet. She tripped along down the 
walk like a sparrow and Arden loped behind, a long limbed, 
disproportionate man who never seemed to be quite in¬ 
habiting all the room in his garments. They crossed the 
street and passed the Silver house, looking closely and walk¬ 
ing slowly. The street lights twinkled over their heads 
as they passed. 

By and by a shadow passed along the street, with some¬ 
thing low trailing after, but there was no sound of footsteps 
though grandma had her window open a trifle. A moment 
later the front door of the Silver house opened letting out 
a stream of light and shut again before they could see 
who had gone in. There seemed to be a dog about. He 
howled once from the neighborhood of the Silver gate. 

At ten o’clock some one came out, perhaps two. It 
almost seemed like a group. Was one the minister? Was 
that a dog or only a mote in the eyes that had strained so 
long through the darkness ? 

Lights appeared upstairs over the way, went out, and 
the Silver house remained a white shape against the velvet 
blue of the night sky. Little stars blinked distantly and 
the tree toads sang uninterruptedly in the meadow and 
down by the brook. Grandma was snoring gently in her 
downstairs bedroom, and Pristina lay in her narrow bed 
up in the roof bedroom and wondered why life had seemed 
to pass her by. 


XIV 


To the right of the Silver house and almost directly 
across from Vandemeeter’s stood a neat gray house with 
wide verandas and white trimmings. There were tall 
trees of great age in front of the place that gave it a retired 
look, and the fine lace curtains at the front windows were 
always immaculate. The fence was gray with square 
fat gate posts, and a row of blue and yellow and white 
crocuses were picketed on either side of the gravel path. 
It was one of those places that you always feel you can 
depend on, and the people who lived in it were like 
unto it. 

Joshua Truman was the Silver Sands banker, and the 
fact that the whole neighborhood called him Josh and 
that he had a hearty handshake and a smile for everybody 
in no wise detracted from his dignity. He seems to have 
been an honest banker, and beloved by everybody. He 
had shaggy overhanging gray eyebrows, but they hid a 
twinkle in the mild blue eyes. Mrs. Truman was plain 
with sweet eyes, wore her hair in close satin ripples above 
her ears as she had done ever since she was married, and 
kept always a neat brown silk with touches of velvet 
trimmings for her best dress. She was president of the 
missionary society in the Presbyterian church. There 
were two children, David, a lump of activity aged ten, 
and Mary, a tall lank girl of fifteen with a heavy braid 
of yellow hair down her back and big, dreamy eyes. 

“ I think Patterson Greeves has come back,” Mrs. 
Truman announced at the breakfast table next morning. 
“ I didn’t notice any one coming in, but Hetty says she 

10 145 


146 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


saw some trunks arrive. I thought perhaps you’d want 
to run in and see if there is anything we can do—” 

“ Oh, why, yes of course,” said the banker heartily. 
“ I forgot to speak about it, those men coming in and 
staying so long after supper last night. He did come. I 
met the minister and he told me. It seems he has brought 
his two daughters home. One is about Mary’s age. I 
think she had better arrange to run in today sometime, 
and show a little attention, perhaps offer to take the girl 
to school or something just to make her feel at home.” 

“ Oh, mother! ” said Mary in dismay, “ I can’t call 
on a strange girl! You go.” 

“ Is his—? Did he—? Well—what about his wife, 
Joshua, isn’t he —married now ? ” 

“ Oh, well—no—I believe not. That is—” he glanced 
at the children, “I should think that was all the more rea¬ 
son why we should show some courtesy to those mother¬ 
less girls.” 

“ Yes, of course,” said his wife with a look of relief 
that the matter was settled. “ Certainly, Mary, you run 
in after school this afternoon and call. You can take 
some of our strawberries and a bunch of daffodils and 
just run in without any formality.” 

“ Oh, mother!” said Mary aghast, “ I promised 
Roberta I’d play duets with her this afternoon.” 

“ Well, take Roberta along,” said her mother crisply. 
“ The Moffats were always good friends of the Silvers.” 

“ Yes, certainly,” spoke up the father. “ Get some of 
the other girls to go too. It will be a pleasant thing for 
a stranger to feel that she is welcomed into a community 
the first day. Talk to some of the girls and make it 
go, Mary.” 

“ All right,” said Mary reluctantly, with a speculative 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


147 


glance over at the Silver house which she could see from 
her place at the table. “ I might ask her to go to Christian 
Endeavor,” she suggested, “ we girls are on the Lookout 
committee. We all promised to try and get some new 
members. What’s her name ? ” 

“ Well, that I didn’t discover. I guess it’s up to you 
to find out, daughter,” said her father with a pat on her 
shoulder as he got up and went to kiss his wife good-bye 
for the morning. 

“Do I have to dress up mother?” asked Mary, still 
thinking of her prospective call, “ I don’t mind going if I 
can wear my school dress but I hate to waste the time 
dolling up. Besides, I always feel so embarrassed in my 
best clothes.” 

“ I don’t think it will be necessary to dress up,” said 
her mother with a quick inspection of the neat blue gingham 
with its sheer white ruffies and the crisp dark blue hair 
ribbon that tied the heavy braid of hair, “ little girls don’t 
have to bother about their clothes. She’ll probably like 
you far better if you go just as you come from school. 
Be sure your hands are clean of course.” 

Mary brightened and went off to school quite full of 
her plans for the afternoon. Her grade was in the old 
brick schoolhouse up beyond the Truman house. She 
did not pass the Silver place. She would have been sur¬ 
prised to know that the girl she was proposing to call 
upon was still in bed asleep. Mary had been up for two 
hours, had practised an hour and a half, and helped her 
mother get the breakfast on the table because Hetty, the 
maid of all work, had a lame foot and was being saved. 
Mary glanced back at the Silver place and felt a warm 
spot around her heart. It was going to be nice to have a 
girl friend living there. They could go to school together. 


148 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


Living next door she naturally would be “ best friend.” 
The Silver place would be an awfully nice house to have 
a Christian Endeavor social in sometime. Would Mr. 
Greeves be willing? She would suggest this to the girls. 
This would make them eager to go and see her. She 
could hear the first bell ringing as she hurried along. She 
started to run to have more time to talk before school 
began. Her eyes were bright with the new idea when 
she entered the schoolyard. She decided that she would 
ask the new girl over to make fudge that evening if all 
went well. 

On the other side of the Silver mansion, the side where 
Athalie’s room faced, there was an old brown wooden 
house. It hadn’t been painted in years and was not likely 
to be painted in years to come if it lasted so long. It 
was built in the days of scroll work and rejoiced in a 
cupola, lofty and square, with alternate lights of red and 
blue and yellow glass bordering a large clear one, two 
on each side. The front gable was ornamented with a 
fret work of ancient wood, faded brown like the rest, 
which had somehow, either in a storm or in consequence of 
the mending of the roof, become detached from the ridge¬ 
pole on one side and fallen out of plumb. The result was 
rakish, like a woman with her bonnet on cock-eyed. The 
windows of the house were gothic and latticed, and the 
doors all sagged. The Weldons lived there and they sagged 
too. Uri Weldon usually did his sagging down in the 
lobby of the one hotel, sunk deep in a worn-out leather 
chair with his heels above his head on another, and a 
large sagging cigar in one corner of his mouth. He 
kept up the hallucination that he was thus conducting busi¬ 
ness, which consisted in trying to get someone to patent 
some of his inventions, but his business sagged too and 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


149 


never came to anything. Lizette Weldon, his wife, was 
spare and wore a false front over little black gimlet eyes. 
When she walked she was the shape of rain in a driving 
storm but nothing ever escaped her vision whichever way 
she was going. The property was theirs for life, entailed 
so that they could not sell it, and would pass to a nephew 
now residing in China when they no longer had need for 
it. They had been there for years, however, and seemed 
likely to outlast the nephew in China. Gentle Aunt Lavinia 
had had her trials with Lizette, and young Patterson 
Greeves owed many a sound thrashing to her sharp eyes 
and ready tongue. 

A long stretch of ill-kept wire grass constituted the 
lawn in front of the Weldons, ending abruptly in a row 
of sombre pine trees behind which the house retired 
as if aware of its hopeless shabbiness. Had it not been for 
these pines the whole place would have been a sorry con¬ 
trast to the well-kept Silver estate. There was some¬ 
thing shielding, almost dignifying in the pines. 

But the side windows had no row of pines and looked 
across a clear space straight to the side of the Silver house; 
and Athalie’s window presented a liberal view for any 
interested eye. 

On the first afternoon of her arrival Lizette was 
mounting the stairs for her daily nap when she happened 
to notice a curious figure climbing from the window. 
Having been occupied in the kitchen during the morning 
she was as yet unaware of the arrivals, although she had 
seen a light in the front room the night before, but 
the shades were drawn almost immediately and the light 
remained but about five minutes so she thought nothing 
of it. But this was startling. 

Lizette hastened to get an old field glass which she kept 


150 TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 

handy and wherewith she had often settled uncertainties 
in the neighborhood in time past, and brought it to bear 
upon the object of her interest. She applied the binocu¬ 
lars to her eyes and screwed them hastily into focus, then 
withdrew them and stared with her naked eyes. 

“ Oh, my! ” she said aloud, “ ain’t that awful! ” She 
lifted the glass once more and gazed. “ Pants! ” she 
ejaculated wildly, a kind of triumph in her tone, “ well, 
now I guess they’re coming down a peg! What would 
the old Silvers say to that! A girl in pants! Of course 
the papers advertise them but the Silvers never were 
that kind. And look at her hair! My soul! How does 
she get it to stay out sq. Ain’t it redickilus! Where’s 
she going? My good fathers! if she isn’t going to climb 
down! Well, that beats everything! Who is she ? ” 

Lizette hurried down the stairs and rushed to the front 
window to get a closer view between the pines, then noting 
the stranger’s general direction toward the stores she 
hastened to the telephone; calling up a friend who lived 
farther down the street. 

“ That you Miz Hoskins ? Well go to your front win¬ 
dow and see that girl in pants coming down the street. 
She just climbed down off the old Silver pergola out the 
side bedroom window. Hurry and I’ll hold the phone.” 

Mrs. Hoskins had a hot loaf of bread in a pan, holding 
it with a wet towel in one hand when she took down the 
receiver, but she hurried to the window, hot pan and all. 
There succeeded a pause during the passing of Athalie, 
then steps and a voice. 

“ My, ain’t that scandalous? And all those young boys 
down around town! Not that I mind the pants so much 
if everybody wore ’em. It’s sensible you know. But 
the way she walks and all. And her face. Did you see 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


151 


how it was made up? Why those girls that sang at the 
minstrel show weren’t half so coarse looking. And the 
air of her. You said she came from Silvers? Well I 
guess there’s going to be some doings there from all I 
hear. My husband took the express over with the trunks. 
Say, you oughta have seen those trunks. Seven of ’em 
I think there was, and not one could be lifted without four 
men. Just to think such goings on in this respectable 
town! ” 

“ But who is she ? ” 

“ Dear knows! John says she might be most anybody. 
You know Patterson Greeves got a divorce! Maybe she’s 
his typewriter. That’s the way they do things nowadays. 
Isn’t it the limit? Say, I smell my other loaf of bread 
burning. Excuse me a minute please. You hold the wire. 
I want to ask you about what happened at the sewing 
circle the other day. I’ll be back in a minute.” 

Mrs. Weldon took no nap that afternoon. She was 
too excited. She felt it her bounden duty to keep a watch 
and find out if there were “ doings ” going on in the old 
house, and if she ought to do something about it. What 
else should a good neighbor do when the respectable dwell¬ 
ing of an old neighbor was threatened with modernism ? 

The hedge was too high for her to see the terrace 
and the scene in the garden, but later when Athalie, having 
cried out her brief wrath, attired herself in a gay little 
suit of pajamas with lace ruffles around the ankles, and 
having turned on all the lights proceeded to practise a 
little aesthetic dancing in front of the window, Lizette 
was there, glass and all, with her fat husband behind her 
staring over his spectacles and laughing coarsely in her 
ear. This was a good joke, a good joke to tell down at 
the hotel. Those religious Silvers come to this! 


152 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


The next morning when she slipped through the gar¬ 
den and under the back fence across lots to the garden of 
Aunt Katie Barnes’s neat little place on the side street 
where the minister boarded, to get a cup of sour milk, she 
paused with her apron over her head and said: 

“ Oh, have you heard what’s happened over at the 
Silver place? They do say Pat Greeves has come back 
and brought a woman along! I’ve been told she was his 
secretary or typewriter or something. But she’s very ordi¬ 
nary. I saw her go by myself and I was shocked! Painted 
and powdered, her hair all kind of wild, the queerest 
hat, and pants, mind you, in the middle of the afternoon! 
I feel so sorry for poor Miss Lavinia. She set such store 
by that boy! But it never pays to bring up other people’s 
children does it ? I can mind how she used to sit out there 
in the garden by the hour playing with him and reading 
to him. A waste of time I say—but aren’t you surprised 
that he should do this? It seems as if he might have 
managed to stay respectable even if he is divorced.” 

Aunt Katie looked up from the potatoes she was 
frying for the minister’s breakfast and smiled. 

“ Oh, didn’t you know who that was? It’s one of his 
daughters. He has two, but this must have been the 
younger one. She’s only a child, fourteen I think Mr. 
Bannard said, and she’s been off at boarding school—I 
suppose you must expect some craziness from little girls 
nowadays, there is so much more freedom in the world, 
especially in New York. But isn’t it nice Mr. Greeves 
has two daughters to keep him from being lonely? The 
other one is a little older. Her name is Silver. Mr. Bannard 
says she is the perfect picture of her mother’s portrait 
hanging over the mantel in the drawing room. Do you 
remember it, that lovely Sargent painting? ” 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


153 


“No,” said Lizette coldly eyeing her adversary, “ I 
don’t go over there. That Mrs. Truesdale doesn’t show her¬ 
self very friendly. I think she takes on airs. Daughters , 
you think then? Are you quite suref Well, I suppose the 
minister ought to know.” She surrendered the bit of 
scandal reluctantly, “ it certainly is strange we never heard 
of them before. Daughters! Well, he better keep a little 
control of them then. One of ’em was having carryings 
on in her room last night, I’ll tell you! Dancing, that’s 
what she was doing, in her underwear! A great big girl 
like a full grown woman, and all her shades up! I never did 
approve of those pajamas for men even. They don’t seem, 
well, Christian you know. And when a woman takes up 
with such outlandish fashions it’s time she was stopped by 
law, I say.” 

“ Well,” said Aunt Katie soothingly, “ we don’t all 
have the same taste in dress you know—” 

“Dress!” sniffed Mrs. Weldon, “ wwdress I should 
say! However, as you say, it takes all kinds to make a 
world. Well, I just ran over to see if you could let me 
have a cup of sour milk. Mine got too sour and I had 
to throw it out.” 

Aunt Katie always seemed to have whatever was 
needed by anyone and the sour milk was immediately 
forthcoming. 

There being no further excuse for lingering, the 
neighbor lingered anyway. 

“ The minister told you! So he’s been over to the 
Silver place already! He’s a good deal younger than Pat 
Greeves. He must be nearer the age of one of the daugh¬ 
ters. Curious he should run after a man like that right 
off the first day! I thought he set up not to be a tody-er, 


154 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


but I suppose they’re all alike. They know which side 
their bread is buttered when a rich man comes along.” 

“ Oh, they met at the fire down at Frogtown night 
before last. Mr. Greeves ran across the meadow as soon 
as he heard the alarm and got into the thick of it help¬ 
ing with the best of them. Then they came home 
together and took to each other right away. It’s going 
to be grand having the old Silver place open again, young 
people in it, and folks going back and forth visiting.” 
Aunt Katie’s face was innocent as a lamb. The guest 
eyed her keenly, but could detect no hidden sign that Aunt 
Katie realized she had ignored the criticism. 

“ Oh, well, if you take it that way of course. Some 
might feel they wanted to wait and be sure all was as it 
should be. But time will tell. Well, I must run home and 
stir up my batter cakes. Uri’ll be waiting.” 

Down at the fire house where Uri spent much of his 
time when he was not sitting in the lobby of the hotel, 
it was discussed that morning. There was always a knot 
of conversation around the fire house door even in early 
morning. It was just across from the blacksmith’s shop, 
and the hotel, and “ handy-by ” from the market and 
post office. When any frequenters came down to the 
business portion of Silver Sands, morning, noon or night, 
they always dropped around for a minute, or an hour, 
to wait for whatever errand had brought them to mature, 
it might be the mail to be distributed, the horseshoe to be 
set, or the drummer to arrive at the hotel for their appoint¬ 
ment with him, and there paused for a bit of gossip. It 
was a kind of distributing agency for the private affairs 
of the town and now and then the outlying districts. It 
was the country club for the so-inclined of the town, and 
stood in place of golf for the men who did not aspire 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


155 


to athletics. The good old fire engine was athletic enough 
for them, and between fires they stood around and polished 
it and worshipped it, and told tales of their own valor. 

Uri Weldon hastened early to the rendezvous that 
morning with an air of mysterious importance, and felt 
gravely the responsibility of so choice a bit of news as 
he carried. 

Back in the dim shadows of a windowless apartment 
under the stairs where the oiling and polishing rags were 
kept, a tramp awoke at the first scraping of the first arm¬ 
chair on the cement floor. Awoke to the dismal necessity 
of another day, and the immediate problem of getting 
out of his concealment before he was discovered. His 
hairy, dirty face appeared weirdly in brief relief on the 
doorway, and leaned up against the door frame, one either 
as Uri Weldon settled back with his feet on an old soap 
box, and his pipe tilted at the right angle for conversa¬ 
tion. Ted Loundes and Flip Haines lounged up to the 
doorway, and leaning up against the door frame, one either 
side of the door like a couple of bronze figures personifying 
Ease and Relaxation. 

Uri Weldon started in on his tale with many an embel¬ 
lishment, interrupted by loud haw haws on the part of the 
younger men. The tramp frowned and ventured another 
look, scouting for a back exit and finding none. The 
tale went on. The tramp was not interested. He could 
not help hearing, but he took no heed till Ted, helping him¬ 
self to a long slither from the batten door behind him 
and cautiously picking his teeth therewith remarked: 

“ I hear that guy Greeves has a pile of dough.” 

Uri Weldon nodded, importantly. 

“ Well, yes, he’s got a pile. Them Silvers was always 
well off. Course they owned the beach and the sand busi- 


156 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


ness, and all that ground the fact’ries were built on, and 
then the right of way where the railroad went, and stocks, 
and so on. But now you know a lot of land they had 
somewhere out in Oklahoma has begun to produce oil. 
They say the money is rolling in from that. And 
besides all that he writes books! Everybody knows they 
charge a turrible price for books. It always beat me how 
they got it. Just a little paper and ink, and words— 
just zvords! And getting paid for it! They tell me he’s 
written a book about bugs that they charge three dollars 
and seventy-five cents for, and the people in the colleges 
are buying ’em like hot cakes! It beats me how with all 
that learning they can be so easily fooled! But so it is, 
and Pat Greeves is profiting by it. Well, I suppose his 
pretty little brats of daughters will inherit a coupla millions 
apiece or more when he kicks off. Seems queer though. 
You boys don’t remember, but Pat Greeves and I used to 
be in a fight in school pretty near every day when we was 
kids—Hi, there boys! Look up the street there! I bet 
that’s her coming down this way now! ” 

Uri’s feet and the front legs of his chair came down 
to the cement pavement with a crash simultaneously, and 
the two younger men came about face with alertness and 
looked in the direction of Uri’s finger. 

“ Gosh! ” ejaculated Flip, “ she’s some winner, isn’t 
she?” “Get onto that epidermis, Ted? Some heft to 
her too.” 

All three men with casual manner sauntered eagerly 
nearer the street and the tramp, peered earnestly out, steal¬ 
ing across the open space with catlike celerity, then drifting 
hastily behind the offset at the side of the fire house, paused 
to take his own observation. This then was the daughter 
of the rich oil magnate who wrote books about bugs. 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


157 


He had once been a city tramp and he flattered himself 
he knew style when he saw it. The cut of a garment, 
the hang of a fold that bespoke quality, the deep blue flash 
of a jewel, the peculiar dash of the whole makeup that 
spoke of lavish purse. The tramp watched and listened 
to the comments of his companions unaware of his very 
existence, and thought within himself how might he turn 
this accident of knowledge to his own account. But when 
the three friends returned to their former attitudes in the 
doorway of the fire house the tramp had melted away like 
the shadows and was seen no more. 


XV 


Patterson Greeves had not slept at all the night 
before. His mind was wrought to so high a pitch that 
it seemed as if he never would sleep again. 

Silver’s music had not soothed him, instead it had 
wrought his heart to sorrow with the memories which 
came trooping, flooding, threatening his self control. Her 
touch was so like her mother’s, her selections, many of them 
Alice’s own favorites. It seemed as he sat there with 
half-closed eyes watching her that it must be Alice. It 
could be no other. 

At last the girl herself had seemed to feel the strain 
she was putting upon her father, and whirling about on 
the piano stool she declared she had played enough for 
the first night. 

It was then the minister roused from his delight in the 
music, realizing that it was time for him to take his depart¬ 
ure and leave this father and daughter to settle their own 
situation by themselves. He expressed his pleasure in 
the music and his hope that he might hear it again, more 
and often, and made his adieu. 

“ Just a moment, Bannard,” said Greeves as they neared 
the front door, “ I’ll get that book for you I was speaking 
of. I saw it this morning in its old place on the shelf— 
if you don’t mind taking it with you. ” 

They stepped into the library and turned up the light. 
There sat Blink, sound asleep, with a draping of angle 
worms all around the rim of his tomato can, and one bolder 
than the rest strewn out across his knee. 

Roused, he declared he had not been asleep, but had 

158 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


159 


been enjoying the fire and the music, merely waiting till 
they were through to present his gift. Trust Blink to 
be equal to a situation. Nevertheless he grinned at his 
worms, and gathering them up flashed a joke at them that 
brought a little breath of mirth into the tense atmosphere 
of the evening and made everybody feel better. 

When Blink and the minister had taken their leave 
Silver and her father sat before the fire hand in hand, 
half shyly for a few minutes and talked. 

If the music had not helped Patterson Greeves to solve 
his difficulties, it had at least made the situation clearer 
to his daughter. 

“ Father,” she said shyly, almost hesitantly, “ don’t 
you think perhaps if you will have a quiet talk with Athalie 
in the morning it might help? I’ve been thinking about 
it. She’s probably as excited as we all are. It must be 
hard for her too. I think perhaps if she understood you 
might be able to make it easier for her. I was trying to 
think how I would feel if I were in her place—she was terri¬ 
bly excited and hurt—you could see that—” 

They talked for sometime and when Silver finally went 
to her room Patterson Greeves turned out the light and 
in the dying firelight he paced the room for hours, back 
and forth. 

In the small hours of the night Anne Truesdale 
from her anxious chamber off the back hall heard him 
come softly up the stairs to his room, but when she went 
in the morning to put his room to rights the bed had not 
been slept in. There was only a deep dent in the coverlet 
where folded arms and a head must have rested as of one 
on bended knees. But Patterson Greeves had no one left 
to pray to, unless it might have been his dead wife Alice, 
or his sweet departed Aunt Lavinia, for he did not believe 


160 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


in a God. And if there had been a God he was angry with 
Him for bringing all this horrible thing to pass upon him. 

But when morning dawned, even before Anne 
Truesdale had been down to open the shutters and tidy 
up the rooms, he was back in the library again, pacing 
back and forth. And as soon as ever it would have done 
any good to call, he was after long distance trying to tele- 
vphone his divorced wife. He had decided that Athalie 
must go back to Lilia. He would make it worth her while. 

He made a pretense of eating some breakfast with 
Silver—no sound had as yet been heard from Athalie’s 
room, and none in the family were disposed to disturb her 
—but it was plain that he was nervous and overwrought, 
and the slightest sound made him start and listen for 
the telephone. 

When the call came at last, he hurried to the library 
only to be informed that Mrs. Greeves had sailed for 
Europe the day before to be gone indefinitely. 

He hung up the receiver and stared about the room 
with that dazed expression he had worn the day before 
when he first knew that Athalie was coming to him. And 
again there sounded in his ear the ring of that derisive 
laughter, echoing along the halls of his soul with taunting 
sweetness. Lilia had won out again. It was as if she had 
tossed her daughter over into his keeping and put the sea 
between them, so that he was not able to send her back, 
not even able to bribe Lilia with money to take her unwel¬ 
come child to her heart again. 

After a few moments he rose and gravely walked to 
the window. The stun of the blow was subsiding and he 
was beginning to take it in for the first time that this 
impossible child was his irretrievably to keep and to care 
for from this time forth, and that he could not rid him- 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


161 


self of the trust. For the first time he was taking it in, 
and some of the things he had flung out in his first bitter¬ 
ness of soul in talking with the minister the night before 
came back upon him as great truths that he had uttered. He 
was responsible for the child, responsible for what she had 
become. Fie could not shirk any longer what he had tried 
to shirk for life. He must face it now. There was not 
distance enough in the whole universe to put his responsi¬ 
bility away from him. It would follow him like a shadow 
wherever he went, whatever he did. 

How could he ever write again with this horror hang¬ 
ing over him ? Well, what difference did it make to anyone 
whether he ever wrote again? What difference did any¬ 
thing make to him ? 

Gradually, however, the business habits of his life 
settled upon his mind and he began to come at the question 
more sanely, more seriously, and to really try to think 
what he could do, and what he should say to this strange, 
unloving, unlovable girl. 

Perhaps the thought of Silver with the Alice-eyes writ¬ 
ing some letters up in Aunt Lavinia’s room, a sweet strong 
sane presence, helped to keep him from the insane despera¬ 
tion that had come upon him the day before. At any rate 
his tortured mind finally thought out a way, made a sem¬ 
blance of a plan, of what he should say to Athalie and 
how he should say it. 

Thinking more coolly now he could see that he had 
antagonized her. She was like Lilia. That was plain. 
Strange that both his children should be like their mothers 
entirely—and yet—no, he could see some things in Athalie 
exactly like himself. That being the case perhaps he could 
understand her a little better if he would come at her in 
the way he would like to be approached himself, reasonably, 

11 


162 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


gently, firmly, but pleasantly. Subconsciously he had 
known that yesterday, but it had seemed too much like 
yielding to an outrageous imposition to treat her in any way 
but imperiously. Well, that was all wrong, of course, from 
her standpoint. He had simply antagonized her. It 
would be of no sort of use to try to control her until he 
had some hold upon her. He had shown his utter disap¬ 
proval of her, her dress, her appearance, her habits, from 
the start. Could he possibly retrieve the past and begin 
again? Well, it was up to him to try. He could not rid 
himself of her by making her hate him, though he had no 
real desire to win her love. Still, he must try something. 
He could easily see now it would be useless to send her 
to any school against her will in this state of mind. She 
would only disgrace him and be back upon his hands in a 
worse condition than before. He must do his duty some¬ 
how, whatever a father’s duty was. Somehow he had never 
thought before, till Silver looked at him with Alice’s eyes, 
what the duty of a father might be. 

So he rang the bell for Anne and asked her to say to 
Miss Athalie that he would like to see her in the library 
as soon as she had finished her breakfast. 

Athalie took her time. 

She bathed herself leisurely, toying with her perfumes, 
she bathed her face many times in very hot water and only 
powdered it lightly, giving a becoming touch of shadow 
under her eyes as of much weeping and no lip stick at all 
to her full mouth. It took quite a while to get just the 
right atmosphere, for it was difficult to make the healthy 
Athalie look as if she were going into a decline. 

She really was trying to please her father. She chose 
a little dashing frock of dark blue wool with a great creamy 
white wool collar curiously rolled about her shoulders, and 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


163 


a daring scarlet sash of crimson silk with fringe that hung 
several inches below the hem. She even put on black 
silk stockings, thin they were and extremely lacy, but 
black, and completed by little fairy patent leather slippers 
with straps intricately fastened to look like ancient Greek 
foot attire. A black velvet band about her forehead com¬ 
pleted her costume and she descended slowly, casually, to 
the dining room and rang the bell imperiously. 

It was Molly who brought a tray with ample food, 
but she rang again and sent for more, and pursued the 
even tenor of a prolonged breakfast with satisfaction, 
until Patterson Greeves awaiting her in the library was 
almost at the limit of his patience and his newly assumed 
gentleness, and could barely keep his resolves from leap¬ 
ing out the door and escaping him altogether. 

But at last, after lingering in the garden a moment to 
gather a flaunting red tulip and stick it in her dress where 
it flared against the white of the collar, she sallied into 
the library without waiting to knock and gave her father a 
cool good morning, quite as if he might have been the 
naughty child and she the casual parent, with many, many 
greater interests than just parenthood. 

Following out his resolves with a visible effort he 
wheeled a comfortable chair for her to sit down where 
the light would fall full upon her face and he might study 
her as they talked. She watched him sharply and then 
turned and stood with her back to him looking out 
the window. 

“ Come here and sit down Athalie,” he said, “ I want 
to have a little talk with you.” 

“ Fire ahead, Pat,” she said nonchalantly, “ I’d rather 
stand here and look out.” 

What could a father do under those circumstances ? I 


164 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


ask you what would a father do ? His blood boiled. His 
temper arose and clamored for satisfaction. He was no 
father of course, but how could he be? Here was this 
impish child of his defying him again, making it practi¬ 
cally impossible for him to exercise the self-control and 
gentleness he had intended. It was as if she suspected his 
scheme and was blocking it. How could he have a heart- 
to-heart talk with a broad blue and white back, a blurr 
against the sunshine of the morning. How was he to 
make her understand that he meant to do his best by her, 
do all that was best for her whether it was hard for him¬ 
self or not, if she stood like that and ignored him? He 
ought to give her a good whipping. That was what she 
deserved. It was barbarous of course, but she was a little 
barbarian, and nothing else would probably reach her. 
Nevertheless—he glanced around and summoned his new 
resolves that were just sliding out the door, grappled them 
to his side, and began: 

“ Athalie, my child,” he began, realizing that it was 
necessary for his own good that he recognize the relation 
openly. He cleared his throat, “ I—ah—” 

“ Aw, cut the comedy, Pat! What’s eating you ? Spit 
it out! I know I’m in for the deuce of a time, but if 
you’re going to preach a sermon you’ll have to do it with¬ 
out me. This is too gorgeous a morning to be shut up in 
the house. Say, Pat, don’t you ever play golf ? What say if 
you and I go to some country club around here and have 
a game and then take lunch? Let’s have a ripping old time 
together and get acquainted, and after that if you haven’t 
got it all out of your system yet I’ll agree to listen.” 

For an instant the astounded father gazed at the face 
of his cock-sure amazing daughter and wavered, almost 
considering whether he could accept this high handed pro¬ 
posal. Perhaps if he had this story might have been a 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


165 


different one in many details, who can tell ? But Patterson 
Greeves’ sole contact with youth since he passed out of 
that class himself had been in the class room or on the 
battle field, in both of which places he had been the dictator, 
able to put his victim through instant discipline if he did 
not obey in every particular; where a mere black mark on 
a report card, or a spoken, word to an under officer, meant 
that the delinquent would be dealt with speedily and 
thoroughly, and where respect and obedience were the 
foundation of breath itself and nothing else was to 
be tolerated. 

And now, while his flesh shrank from the encounter 
before him, and his whole soul cried out for respect and 
the open air, a relaxed conscience, and a chance to get things 
into some natural order again, his puritan inheritance and 
his whole training demanded respect and obedience, and 
the moment passed. The scene of the night before rose 
in his mind’s eye and his blood boiled. He was again in 
the position of an outraged parent struggling for self- 
control while he read the ten commandments to a 
naughty child. ' 

And perhaps it was as well, for Athalie knew how to 
take advantage of the least opportunity, and she had to 
learn sometime that law was law. 

The silence was growing very tense. Athalie, quick 
to note his every phase of attitude toward her, so sure 
of him when she finished her wheedling sentence, began 
to grow uneasy as his gaze continued, staring, stern and 
displeased. 

“ Athalie,” he spoke at last and his words were like 
icicles, “ I can go nowhere, do nothing, until I have had 
an understanding with you.” 

A sullen cloud settled down over the girl’s face. 


166 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


“ Sit down.” He pointed to the chair. Athalie hesi¬ 
tated a second, then with her sullen eyes like smouldering 
fires fixed on him, seemed to think best to obey, but she 
sat down tentatively, with one foot slid slightly behind 
her in readiness to arise again if he offended her. Her 
lips were pouted angrily. She shrugged her shoulders with 
a bored attitude as if she were but humoring him for 
the moment. 

The speech he had framed through the long hours of 
the night deserted him now when he most needed it. 
Strangely it did not seem to fit. He struggled to find the 
phrases, cutting ones, intended to show her her place, 
and keep her in it, an ultimatum which would put things 
on a proper basis. But the whole thing was gone, and 
nothing but his own helplessness was upon him. 

Then something Silver had said the night before about 
talking gently, reasonably, came to him. A sense of the 
room and its hallowed memories filled him. It was as 
if those who had loved him and cared for him in his earlier 
years might be hovering around unseen waiting to help 
him through this trying time. He dropped his forehead 
on his hand for a moment almost humbly, and then lifting 
his eyes he tried to tell the girl what was in his heart. None 
of the sentences he had planned were there. Many of the 
words he spoke he would not have wished to say to her, 
it was condescending too much to one who had treated 
him and his so lightly. 

“ Athalie,” he said, and his voice sounded now more 
gentle, with that certain something which always brings 
attention, “ you and I are not in a very pleasant position. 
Perhaps it may be as hard for you as for me, I do not 
know. I may not have seemed to you very kind nor sym- 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


167 


pathetic when you arrived. I certainly did not welcome 
you. I was utterly unprepared for your arrival, as your 
mother must have known and intended that I should be. 
I do not intend to speak of her nor the past any more than 
is necessary; and there must of course be a great many 
things that you do not understand about our peculiar situ¬ 
ation. We shall just have to put away the past and try 
to build up a relationship from the beginning. In order 
to do that there are one or two things that must be 
clearly understood. 

“ In the first place we belong to an old and respectable 
family with many traditions that must be honored, and 
standards that must be upheld. We owe it to the past.” 

He studied her blank sullen face for a moment wonder¬ 
ing if she understood. 

He struggled to make his words plainer. 

“ There are certain customs and laws of society which 
we have always maintained. I cannot have my daughter 
transgressing these things. Our women have always been 
good and pure, and have never sought to imitate men, 
nor to flaunt their personalities or their persons. They 
have always been modest, quiet, sweet women, dressing 
unobtrusively, becomingly, and in a modest way. I cannot 
countenance the way you speak, the flippant, pert, rude 
disrespect, both to me and to the old house servants who 
have been with us so long that they are an integral part 
of the family. I cannot countenance your mannish ways, 
nor your cigarette smoking, nor your decollete dresses. I 
like sweet, modest girls, and if you and I are to get on at 
all together you must drop these ways and try to be a 
good girl.” 

Athalie’s eyes smouldered furiously, and her lips curled 
in contempt. 


168 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


“I suppose that other girl just suits you!” she 
stormed, “ little simp! ” 

“ Silver seems a very modest, sweet girl,” he assented, 
wondering what he ought to say about the way she had 
treated the picture last night. 

“ Well, I hate her! ” said Athalie in low hard tones, “I 
hate her !—and you sound to me awfully what they call 
at school, 4 mid-Victorian/ ” 

Patterson Greeves began to realize that he was not 
getting on very well. He looked at his hopeless offspring 
and longed to vanish out of her sight forever, caring not 
where or how his soul was disposed, so he might finally 
escape the problem of her. But something in his puritan 
conscience refused to let him slide away from the issue. 
He must face and conquer it. He had slid out of his 
situation with Lilia by letting it take its course—or had 
he? Was she not even now as poignant and tangible an 
element in his life as though he were struggling to live 
his daily life by her side? It passed through his mind 
that perhaps nothing was quite ever shoved aside or slid 
out of. Perhaps we always had to reckon with everything 
we did, sooner or later—sooner and later. That was a 
question of life that might be worth looking into, might 
make a good subject for an article for a magazine—what 
strange thoughts form themselves beneath the surface 
when we are in the midst of a tense and trying time! 
Patterson Greeves brushed the thoughts away impatiently 
and sat up. He must get these things said that he had 
resolved to say. 

“ It makes no difference what I sound like,” crisped 
the father, “nor by what names your school friends choose 
to call things. I am telling you certain facts which must 
be acted upon by you as long as you are under my care. 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


169 


They are the only basis upon which you and I can have 
any dealings whatever. You cannot carry things with a 
high hand, ignore everybody else and overturn systems. 
You are not the ruler here, and you must understand it 
from the beginning.” 

He paused and eyed her, but she gave no sign, just 
let her smouldering eyes rest on him sullenly, unflinchingly, 
the slow contempt in the upper lip continuing to grow. 

“ Those things being thoroughly understood and com¬ 
plied with on your part willingly,” he went on hurriedly, 
determined not to give her an opportunity to demur, “ I 
am entirely willing to talk over your future with you, 
and try to arrange as far as is possible and best for you, 
to make such plans as will be agreeable to you. As to the 
school you will attend, I shall be glad to send for cata¬ 
logues and let you have a part in the selection of your—” 

She raised her hand imperiously. 

“ Stop right there! ” she demanded sharply, “ if you’re 
banking on me being a good little girl and going to school 
you might as well understand that I won’t! I came here 
to live with you. The court said I was to be under your 
care, and here I’m going to stay. If you try to send me 
away anywhere I’ll simply run away and make you more 
trouble. I’d drown myself before I’d go to another board¬ 
ing school. I’ve lived in boarding schools all my life and 
I’m done with them! You can’t shunt me off that way 
for it can’t be done! ” 

A glance into her eyes showed that she fully meant 
every word she said and something in her tone reminded 
her stubborn father that she had inherited his power of 
sticking to a decision. Remembering last evening it seemed 
fully likely that she would carry out any threat that she 


170 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


might choose to make. He shuddered inwardly and began 
to weaken. 

“ Of course, if I found that you were entirely sub¬ 
missive and obedient it might be possible to arrange a 
school not far away—” 

Athalie arose abruptly. 

“ Is that all you have to say to me ? ” she asked in 
a business like tone, “ because I’ve got some letters to 
write.’’ 

“ Athalie, sit down,” he thundered, entirely unnerved 
feeling that his work was all undone again. 

“ Not when you speak to me in that tone,” said the 
girl shrugging her shoulders and raising her chin. “ I 
suppose you call that kind of talk up to the standards of 
your respectable family.” 

The crimson swept over her white sensitive face. Her 
voice wa§ so perfectly like Lilia’s, the reply so entirely 
what she would have given. 

“ I beg your pardon, Athalie. It was not. I am 
very much upset this morning. I will endeavor to control 
my voice. Will you kindly be seated? Now, I want 
to ask whether you are going to be willing to be subject 
to my authority? If not I must begin to take immediate 
steps to place you where you will be looked after in the 
right way. I cannot have such scenes recurring. I may 
as well say I will not have them. I am a busy man 
with important work to do, and this is utterly upsetting. 
Will you be a good girl and try to do right? ” 

His offspring regarded him coolly. 

“ I don’t know whether I will or not,” she answered 
calmly, “ it depends upon how you behave. If you let 
me have my own way and have a good time I presume 
I shall—depends upon what you call good. I don’t intend 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


171 


to be goody goody. But if you try to bully me you’ll wish 
you hadn’t, that’s all. That’s what I told Lilia when I 
left her. I said ‘ Lilia, he may have bullied you, but he’s 
not going to bully me. It isn’t being done.’ ” 

A sudden startled wonder came to him as she spoke 
of her mother that made him forget to listen to the arro¬ 
gant ending of her sentence. 

“ Athalie,” he said suddenly changing the subject, “ are 
you aware that your mother has sailed for Europe? ” 

The girl gave him a look as if he had unexpectedly 
stabbed her, and her eyes filled up with tears, her lips 
trembled. She struggled for an instant with a sob, gave 
a slight nod of assent with her chin and broke down with 
a heart rending little cry, sinking her head upon her arms, 
her whole gaudily attired body shaking with suppressed 
sobs, as if the thought were too deep for sound. 

Patterson Greeves stared at her for a moment uncom¬ 
prehending, unable to meet this amazing phase of his most 
mysterious daughter, resenting her change of combat as 
if she had broken some rule of the game. She was not 
being true to type. How could he meet such an antagonist ? 
Lilia used to cry prettily, pettedly, outrageously, to order, 
when she found all other weapons useless; but this was 
grief, genuine, deep, terrible. The grief of an uncontrolled 
nature. Grief of the kind he always had felt in his own 
troubles. Was it possible that something in his heart was 
stirring toward her, yearning—? No. This child of 
Lilia deserved all she was getting—ah! but child of him¬ 
self too. Could it be possible that Lilia loved the child? 
If so why had she sent her away from her? It seemed 
out of the probable that Lilia could love anything but her¬ 
self. Could it be possible that the child loved Lilia? She 
did not seem like a loving child. But those sobs were not 


172 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


angry, they were hurt, stricken cries. Had Lilia been 
unkind to the girl? His sense of justice roused toward 
her. He put out a vague hand and touched her shoulder. 

“ Athalie, haven’t you had a — happy —life? Hasn’t 
your mother been good to you ? ” he asked hesitatingly. 

She lifted a tear stained face from behind which fires 
flashed in her eyes, and shook his groping hand off. 

“ That’s none of your business,” she said, “ you never 
tried to make it any happier, did you? ” 

The father sat and saw a few more of his shortcomings 
marched out before him in the open, and swallowed hard 
on the sight. He, Patterson Greeves, of a respected family 
had contrived to do some of the most contemptible things 
a man can do on earth! It was unbelievable, and yet he 
was beginning to believe it. 

He stared at her a moment with that dazed expression 
coming again. It dazes most souls to really look in their 
own eyes and behold how different they are from their 
fancied selves. Then he drew a deep sigh and arose going 
to the window to stare out across the meadow. 

“ No. I don’t suppose I ever did,” he said reluctantly 
at last. The sobs ceased as suddenly as they had begun. 
There ensued a prolonged silence. Then the father added 
as though to himself: 

“ I had no intention of overlooking any duty, I simply 
did not realize.” 

Finally the girl raised her head and in quite a con¬ 
trolled voice said: 

“ That’s all right, Pat, I’m here now. Forget it! We 
aren’t getting anywhere and I’m going up and wash my 
face. If you change your mind about that golf just send 
me word.” 

She was at the door when he wheeled about and said 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


173 


hesitatingly: “There’s one thing, Athalie, I wish you 
wouldn’t call me Pat. I don’t like it. It sounds disrespect¬ 
ful. It makes me ashamed. I—” 

“ All right, dad, since you ask it that way I won’t, but 
I like you a lot more when you’re Pat. It seems to make 
you more homey and understandable. Well, so long! You 
know where to find me!” and she flashed away like a 
bright-throated, naughty blue-jay. 

The father sat down in a chair and covered his face 
with his hands. The interview for which he had been 
all night preparing was over and he had got nowhere. 
Nothing had been accomplished, except that perhaps he 
himself had weakened. A sense of his own forgotten 
responsibility, and a certain wistful turn of her voice had 
undone him. How was he ever to do anything with this 
unmanageable child? 

The door suddenly opened without warning and 
Athalie’s head flashed in again. 

“ I just wanted to say, dad, that if you take that other 
girl along you needn’t count me in. She and I are two 
people. I hate her. So don’t go to bunching us up for it 
won’t work, and don’t give me any more of that line about 
getting advice from her about dress, see ? I won’t stand 
for it, that’s all. If you want me to live up to your stand¬ 
ards you’ve got to live up to mine! understand? ” 

She was gone. And if she had suddenly hurled a 
leaden weight on her father’s heart the world could not 
have turned darker or his heart been more heavy. How 
was ever such a state of things to work out? 

A soft knock on the door broke in upon these thoughts, 
and Silver stepped within the room dressed in coat and 
hat and gloves, with her suitcase in her hand. 


XVI 


Whenever Silver came anew into his vision again 
she gave her father a start, her appearance was so much 
like his lost Alice. 

There was something exquisite and spiritlike in her 
face that rested and soothed him. It was curious that 
the word “ blest ” flitted through his mind when he thought 
of how she made him feel. He lifted a troubled face to 
greet her now and a sick dismay stole over him as he saw 
the suitcase in her hand. 

She put it down and came quickly over to him, her 
lips smiling although her eyes were grave. Her voice 
had a lilt of sorrow in it though she tried to make 
it cheerful. 

“ Father, I’ve thought it all out in the night,” she 
said perching on the arm of his chair and putting her arm 
softly around his neck—just so her mother used to sit 
and touch his hair lightly with her fingers. He had not 
thought of it in a long, long time. 

“ You see, I’ve sort of promised this man I would take 
this position, and he has held it for me already for several 
days while I was getting packed up. I feel that I ought 
to go back right away and get to work.” 

She was talking rapidly, trying to stem the tide of 
emotion she evidently felt, and the stricken look on his 
face made it no easier. 

“ I didn’t tell you this morning at breakfast because 
I didn’t want you to be disturbed by any other question 
till you had had your talk with Athalie. It wasn’t fair to 

174 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


175 


her. But I saw her just now as she came upstairs and I 
feel sure you have come to some understanding. 

“ Now, father dear, please don’t try to change me,” 
she took the hand that he put out in protest and held it 
close. “ Listen to me. It isn’t at all what you are think¬ 
ing. I’m not being driven away nor anything. I am simply 
going away because I feel that it is my duty. No, you’re 
not to talk, please, till I’m through. Listen, father, Athalie 
is younger than I am and she needs you more. You must 
get acquainted with her and teach her to love you. She 
hasn’t ever had anybody real to love her, I am sure, and 
I have, you know. And it isn’t as though I didn’t have 
you too. It’s quite, quite different from what it was before 
I came. I have a father now and I know he loves me. 
And we can write to each other, and that will be wonder¬ 
ful ! And I’ll have someone to advise me—” 

“ Stop! ” cried Patterson Greeves springing to his feet, 
his tortured nerves refusing to hear more. “ Stop! don’t 
speak of it again! I tell you I have borne enough. You 
shall not go away, Silver, my Silver-Alice! I need you! 
I want you! You remember your grandmother told you 
to find out if I needed you. Well, I do! God knows I do! 
Do you suppose for an instant I would let the welfare of 
that other strange child come between us ? She is nothing 
to me, never can be. Her mother was a viper, and she 
is going to be just like her! I will send her—! ” 

Suddenly both of them became aware of the opening 
of the door and there on the threshold stood Athalie, 
attired in giddy sports clothes with a golf club in her 
hand, but the bright smile with which she had entered 
had died on her lips and her face was white as death, her 
eyes like two blazing coals. 

For an instant she stood there facing her father, her 


176 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


eyes wide with sorrow, consternation, something terrible 
and inscrutable. Then she turned with a quick glance 
of hate toward Silver and exclaimed: 

“ Oh, heck! ” 

The slam wherewith she emphasized her exit from the 
door reverberated through the house like thunder as she 
stormed upstairs again. Anne Truesdale hurried in from 
the back hall with her apron wrapped around her hands 
and over her heart, and stood like an old gray squirrel her 
head on one side perking her ears, watching, listening. But 
Athalie’s sobs were smothered in the pillow for the hurt 
had gone deep, deep! 

The two left in the library white and shaken looked 
at one another. 

Silver’s eyes said sadly: “ Father, don’t you see I 
must go? ” but the man’s lips spoke the answer. 

“ It would be impossible, Silver. I could not 
endure her.” 

It was an hour before they arrived at a compromise. 
Silver was to remain for a time, was to send for her trunk, 
and to be allowed to follow her own course about keeping 
out of Athalie’s way, on condition that the father was 
to make an honest effort to win Athalie to a better way 
of behavior, and to try to cultivate a little love between 
them, though that Patterson Greeves declared was an 
impossibility. 

To this end he had agreed to keep his feelings in the 
background and try to show Athalie a good time, that 
being the thing which seemed to be uppermost in her 
mind and the most likely to make her amenable to reason. 

When Silver left him to go back to her room it was 
with the satisfaction of seeing Anne Truesdale precede 
her up the stairs to tap at Athalie’s door with the message 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


177 


that her father was now ready to go with her to the 
golf links if she would come down at once. 

How had the slip of a girl learned to wind one round 
her finger? Just as her mother used to do. Always able to 
make one see the sensible sane thing to do, always willing 
to give up herself and stand in the background while some¬ 
one else was being helped. Oh, why, why could that 
mother not have lived? He wondered all these things as 
he waited for the other daughter to present herself, half 
hoping she would declare against going. 

Athalie came slowly down with a gloomy air. Her 
eyes looked heavy and her mouth slouched at the corners. 
She carried her bag of sticks slung over her shoulder and 
she had taken care to wear a bright skirt in place of the 
knickers which she would have chosen, obviously trying to 
please him if he had but known it, trying to respect that 
vague respectable family standard of which he had spoken. 

“ Pristina! ” called grandma from the sitting room, 
“ come here quick and tell me which one this is.” 

Pristina hurried from the kitchen where she was 
making cake, a flour sifter in her hand. 

“ That’s number one,” said Pristina assuredly, “ she 
was the fat one with the painted face. I wonder why the 
other one didn’t go too. They are going to play golf.” 

“ Seems to me that’s rather frivolous to begin with— 
golf,” said grandma. “ Seems as if for a man of his 
years he ought to be getting settled and getting out his 
work. If he’s really so great as they say, writing books 
and all, why don’t he write ’em ? I have no patience with 
people trying to keep from growing up. Golf! H’mmph! ” 
sniffed grandma. 

“ All great people do it nowadays, grandma,” assured 


12 


178 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


Pristina, “ they talk in the magazines about it’s keeping 
you in condition.” 

“ Condition! Fiddlesticks! If he’d get out and do a 
little digging in his own garden it would keep him in con¬ 
dition enough. What was that Pristina, that your Uncle 
Ned said the last time he came down from New York? 
It was something very fitting about this golf.” 

“ Oh, uncle said he had no time for knocking a pill 
around a ten-acre lot. But grandma, that wasn’t original. 
I’ve heard it since, and read it in the joke column.” 

“ Very likely they got it from your Uncle Edward,” 
said grandma reprovingly. “ You have a way of dis¬ 
counting your relatives that is very disappointing, Pristina. 
Your own family are as good as any you’ll find anywhere. 
Don’t go yet, Pristina. Who is that coming up from the 
post office? She’s met them. Perhaps she’ll be coming 
here. She’ll be able to tell us something and then we 
shall know what to think. I declare it’s very embarrassing 
not knowing what to think, nor how to act.” 

“ That’s Lizette Weldon, grandma, and she’s bringing 
back the cup of yeast she borrowed last week. I see a 
cup in her hand.” 

Lizette had seen Greeves and his daughter start out. 

“ My soul! ” said Lizette and hastened to grab her. 
brown cape and get the cup of yeast that she might not 
miss this so great opportunity. She met them as they 
were passing the gate. 

“ Yes, that’s the one! My, ain’t she coarse! ” she 
commented inwardly. “ Now, does he think he’s going 
to pretend he don’t know me? Well, I rather guess not. 
Good morning, Mr. Greeves. We’re pleased to see the 
old house lighted up! ” 

“ There, now! ” she said to herself, “ that’ll make that 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


179 


fat thing understand that I saw her last night and per¬ 
haps she’ll be more careful when she cuts up her antics.” 

Patterson Greeves startled into recognition lifted a 
belated hat. 

“ Oh, yes, good morning. It is a long time since it 
was lighted. Thank you. I hope you are quite well! ” 

“ He didn’t know me from the man in the moon,” 
she told herself as she hastened up the street with the 
yeast. “ What a man! I don’t wonder she divorced him. 
Mercy, but that girl is fat! And her clothes looked like 
my patchwork quilt with the rising sun pattern. I wonder 
he lets her go out that way. He knows what’s expected in 
this town, he lived here long enough, goodness knows. 
But perhaps he doesn’t care what we think.” 

Pristina hastened to the door. Ordinarily Lizette was 
not overly welcomed, but a common cause does a great 
deal to bring folks down to a common level. 

“ Well, what do you thing of Patterson Greeves’ 
daughters ? ” she asked almost before she had her breath 
from coming up the steps. 

“Daughters?” chorused the Vandemeeter girls, all 
present but Harriet who was hastening down from the 
third story as fast as possible, having left a pillow in mid¬ 
air as she was making the bed, when she heard Lizette’s 
voice at the front door. 

“ Daughters! ” reiterated Lizette sitting down com¬ 
placently with the cup of yeast still in hand, “ sort of 
startling ain’t it. I never heard of them before, did you? 
Strange that Mrs. Truesdale or someone never let it out, 
but land! she’s as close mouthed as Miss Lavinia Silver 
was, every bit, and a thousand times more aristocratic. 
Well, I met one of ’em face to face and I don’t think much 
of her. She’s fat and coarse and dresses outlandish. I 


180 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


was just thinking on my way down she looked as if she 
had on my rising sun bed quilt, all queer stripes and stitches 
over her skirt and sweater.” 

“ Daughters! ” echoed the Vandemeeters again and 
looked at one another. “ We must tell Arden’s wife! ” 

“ What’s her name ? ” asked Pristina. 

“ Well, he didn’t name her when he introduced her,” 
evaded Lizette. “ Perhaps that’s the fashion now. But 
the fact is I don’t believe he remembered my name, although 
he pretended he was awful pleased to see me.” 

“ Well—it’s only natural—after all these years—” 
said mother comfortably. 

“ No tain’t natural, you know tain’t. Why, I’ve 
spanked him for stealing my cherries! ” 

“ That’s probably the reason,” said Pristina, “ one 
can’t be dignified in the face of a spanking. How old 
is that girl anyway? ” 

“ Well, I hardly know, Pristeen, she looked older, an 
younger, ’n she oughtta be. I couldn’t quite describe it. 
Kind of as if she was an old woman that hadn’t growed 
up, or a baby that had lived a hundred years. One thing 
I know, she had smut under her eyes, and them lips never 
grew red like that. It ain’t natur’.” 

“ Is she the oldest or the youngest? ” asked mother, 
biting off her thread and holding up her needle to the light. 

“ Well, ’deed I can’t really tell you Mis’ Vandemeeter, 
but I shud judge she might be the youngest. But then 
I ain’t seen the other so you can’t tell. This one wears 
pants, regular pants like the boys, if that’ll tell you any¬ 
thing. But laws! The other one may too for all I know. 
She keeps herself mighty close.” 

“ She went out with Pat—with her father I mean— 
yesterday afternoon,” contributed Harriet. “ She looked 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


181 


to me like a real modest appearing girl. She has pink 
cheeks, not too pink, and light hair, a real girl. I liked 
her looks.” 

“ I’m sure I don’t see how you could tell at that dis¬ 
tance, Aunt Harriet,” said Pristina coldly. 

“ Well, her dress seemed quiet,” defended Harriet. 

“ Well, they may wear dresses that scream for all 
me,” said Pristina crossly, “ I’m going back to my 
angel cake.” 

Lizette’s languidly alert eyes followed her mournfully, 
and when the click of the flour sifter could be heard she 
lowered her voice sepulchrally: 

“ Wasn’t Pristina rather interested in Mr. Greeves at 
one time ? ” 

“ Mercy, no! ” clamored mother so audibly that her 
voice could be heard in the kitchen, “ Pristina was a babe 
in arms when he went away from here. Just because she 
did her duty by honoring a fellow citizen in her essay at 
the club everybody has jumped to the conclusion that 
she’s in love with him. I wish to pity’s sake you’d turn 
your attention to someone else, Lizette, and not carry 
gossip around about my child.” 

“ Well, now Lucy, I certainly think you’ll have to take 
that back. I don’t know what you mean. I only asked a 
simple question, didn’t I? And I don’t originate all the 
questions in this town do I ? If I give you a little hint of 
what’s passing isn’t that only kindness ? ” 

Mrs. Vandemeeter pursed her lips around a pin and 
looked angry. 

“ Well, all I’ve got to say,” said Lizette rising offend- 
edly, “ is, if you don’t ever find any worse things said 
about you than I say you can count yourself well off. 
There’s your yeast. Don’t trouble to get up. I’ve got to 


182 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


run right back. I thought you’d be interested to know, 
but of course if you’re not I’ll keep the rest to myself. 
Good-bye.” * 

She shut the door with a slam and swished down the 
front walk. 

“ Cat! ” said Pristina from behind the pantry door. 

“ There, now Lucy, I’m afraid you’ve done it. She’ll 
tell something a great deal worse. It never does to make 
an enemy mad, especially if she’s got a tongue, let sleeping 
dogs lie, the saying is, and it’s very true,” said grandma. 
“ Something about it being better to have even a dog your 
friend, too, what is it? Don’t any of you know? It 
bothers me so to have something like that I can’t remember. 
Now I shall lie awake all night tonight thinking of that, 
and it will worry me like anything that you gave her a 
chance to talk about Pristina, Lucy. She’ll talk, I know 
she will.” 

“Let her talk!” said mother with her head in the 
air, “ I guess Pristina can stand it. Pristina’s a lady.” 

“ Well,” said Pristina, “ I’d like to know what those 
girls are named. You can tell a whole lot by names.” 

“ You’ll know soon enough,” said grandma, “ get back 
to your cake. I wonder if Arden’s wife knows about their 
being daughters! Well, I must say it’s a relief to know 
they’re daughters. The neighborhood has always been 
so respectable.” 

Athalie was a different creature on the golf course, 
alert, strong, skillful, full of eagerness, like a boy. She 
whistled and talked slang and patronized her father till 
he began to feel like a small boy himself, and all the time as 
he walked silently from point to point studying his amazing 
child, he was seeing himself in all her actions, and then see¬ 
ing Lilia in her waywardness between, and realizing more 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


183 


and more that he was responsible for this queer tantalizing 
creature. Part of the time also he was wondering why 
he had been persuaded to come out on the golf course with 
this child whom he disapproved, whom he did not want 
to be with, and why he was trying with all his might to 
control his temper and make her have a good time. It 
was all Silver’s doings, “ Silver-Alice! ” he said it over and 
over to himself “ Silver-Alice! Silver-Alice! Silver- 
Alice! ” and the name sounded sweet to his soul. Why had 
he not known what sweetness there was in fatherhood ? 

On the way home it almost appeared from something 
Athalie said that she had been trying to make him have 
a pleasant time. He felt strangely touched and chagrined. 
Not that he liked to have her put herself out for him. It 
went against the grain to find her doing such a thing. But 
the justice in his soul cried out for her due. He found 
himself promising that the morning should be repeated and 
then groaning within himself over the interruption to his 
life this was going to be. 

But when they reached the house and Anne told him 
that the minister had called up to ask if they would 
like to take a drive that afternoon he found himself entirely 
willing to be interrupted still further. 

There was a struggle in his mind about taking Athalie 
along on the drive. He felt she would be a disturbing ele¬ 
ment. But when he asked her finally if she would like to 
go she asked suspiciously: 

“ Is she going? ” and when he answered in the affirma¬ 
tive she shrugged her shoulders and said, “ thank you, no. 
I told you how I felt about that. You can’t expect me to 
come when you take her.” 

He was relieved. It made things easier. He felt 
sure Bannard would be better pleased. 


184 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


Silver too was relieved. He could see that. Yet there 
was a cloud in her eyes, a weight upon her heart. Her 
conscience was over active. It troubled her that there 
should be enmity between her father’s daughter and herself. 

But the day was gorgeous, one of those caressing days 
in spring when June seems to have anticipated herself 
and earth’s tuning has begun. Little warm scents flitted 
about, and tiny melodies of living creatures moving, the 
whir of a bee’s wings, the grumble as he worked, the stir 
of things growing, budding, blossoming, grass blades like 
rockets shooting everywhere, sharp emerald sounds broad¬ 
casting only to those whose ears attuned to their pitch, a 
meadow lark’s note, high, clear above it all. 

And then the three seemed so congenial. There was 
so much to see and talk about, so much in which all 
were interested. 

Bannard was the guide, Greeves the historian, Silver 
the audience, eager, questioning. 

They started up the road past the schoolhouse where 
Greeves had been a student, out the old Pike, across the 
covered bridge and curving back of the village along the 
beach of silver beside the sparkling stream, down toward 
Frogtown. Bannard wanted to show them his mission, 
and to point out a good location for the proposed building. 

They drew up in front of a row of old stone hovels 
crazily jostling each other facing the road and the creek. 
Bannard pointed to a vacant lot not far away, and he 
and Greeves were discussing whether it would be better 
farther up the hill. Silver sat watching the children play¬ 
ing on the path, dirty little things, yet beautiful beneath 
the dirt. Wonderful starry black eyes set in faces that 
might have been the models for some of the angel faces 
in the paintings of great masters, tumbled curls, and rosy 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


185 


cheeks, tiny earrings glittering sharply under the dirt and 
tousle, little bodies scantily clad, little savages unaware 
of their soil and nakedness. Clamoring, fighting, throwing 
mud, the older girls carrying babies too large sizes for 
their backs, the younger babies huddled to watch 
the automobile. 

A woman hurried out from one of the houses, a 
curious three-comer shawl of bright colors thrown over 
her head and folded back like a head dress. She had an 
air of excitement. Bannard called to her: 

“ Good morning, Nuncie, all well at your house? ” 

“ Oh, it’s the maister! ” cried the woman, her voice full 
of agitation, her dark lined face working with emotion. 

“ It’s the baby, little Mary, Angelo’s Mary. Vary seek. 
I go for the doctor. He come two times yesterday. I 
tink she got the pneumonias. She turn all black. Her 
heart stop—” 

Before the account was finished Bannard was out of 
the car. “Will you excuse me a moment?” he said 
hurriedly, “ I must go in and see. This is the beautiful baby 
I told you about,” he finished, looking at Silver. 

“ Oh, please let me come too. Perhaps there is some¬ 
thing I can do. I have had a course in nursing.” 

“ Come then,” said Bannard and hurried into the 
house without knocking. 

Greeves put out his hand to stop her, but Silver was 
gone before he realized. Pneumonia! Didn’t the child 
know that was contagious. What did Bannard mean by 
letting her go? Suppose she should take it and die, now 
when he had just got her, leave him as her mother had 
done! He shuddered and sprang out of the car, 
resolved to bring her back again into the clean air 
and sunshine, away from germs and contamination. What 


186 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


was the use of being a specialist on germs if one couldn’t 
save one’s own from danger? So he stumbled up the 
steps and into a deserted room. 

There was no squalor nor dirt. The walls were grimy 
with age and use, and the bare floor was worn in hollows 
by many feet, but both were clean as soap and water could 
make them. He stared about. There was nothing in the 
the room but a cookstove neatly blacked with a pot of stew 
simmering away, a wooden table covered with oilcloth, 
two chairs and an old sofa with lumpy springs. A painted 
dresser held a few cheap dishes, some spoons and forks; 
and a pair of rude steps shallow almost as a ladder led 
up through an open door, winding out of sight. He could 
just see the flash of Silver’s gray-blue tweed skirt as she 
disappeared up those impossible stairs. 

“ Silver! ” he called and then without knowing it, 
“ Alice! ” but no one answered him. The sound of the 
factory near by kept up a monotonous clatter in regular 
rhythm, and there were subdued voices overhead. He 
stepped to the door and looked up. Such stairs! He never 
had seen their like. They were like carvings in a sheer 
wall. They went winding up in the shallow space like 
pictured stairs, like the stairs in a nightmare. How did 
anybody ever climb them ? How had Silver and Bannard 
climbed them? Didn’t Bannard know any better than 
to let a girl go up a place like that? He put a tentative 
foot on the first step and perceived that it was hollowed 
out in bowl shape by many feet that had gone before. He 
groped with his hand to the wall that seemed to advance and 
slap him in the face. He lifted another foot to another 
step, and went winding and groping up in the dark and 
uncertainty. A woman appeared at the head of the stairs 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


187 


weeping. She had wonderful dark hair and her eyes 
were piteous. 

“ I have come for my daughter. She ought not to 
be in here,” he shouted at her. The woman chattered 
some jargon at him that had a tang of French, or was 
it Italian ? But he could understand nothing but the words 
“ doctor 99 and “ little ba—bee ” and then more tears. She 
passed beyond his vision. 

He lifted himself another step, and yet another and 
stood head and shoulders in a room light and clean with 
whitewash, a large framed picture of the painted Christ 
on the cross hung on the wall opposite him over the head 
of a big brass bed made up with white draperies trimmed 
with hand knit lace, and on the clean pillow lay a little 
face, the most beautiful baby face Greeves had ever looked 
upon, short black curls tumbled on the pillow, long curling 
lashes dark upon the rounded cheek, beautiful baby lips 
gasping for breath, treacherous blue shadows deepening 
about the eyes and nose. 

“ These windows ought to be up if it’s pneumonia,” 
Bannard explained in a whisper. He stretched out a 
strong arm and threw up both windows. Silver was lean¬ 
ing over the baby feeling of her forehead touching the 
pulse of the little fluttering restless hand. 

“ She ought to have oxygen, Mr. Bannard. Can’t 
you get some quick? ” Silver looked up. 

“ I’ll get it,” said the minister. “ Can you stay here 
till I come ? ” 

She nodded. “ Quick! ” she was down on her knees 
beside the bed, putting the spoon which the mother handed 
her to the little tight-shut lips. 

“ She ought not to be here! ” repeated Greeves wildly, 


188 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


but Bannard swept him along down the stairs with a 
strong arm. 

“ Greeves, just run over to that grocery and ring up 
Doctor Carr. Tell him I said to come instantly to Angelo’s 
house. I must go for oxygen. You stand by till I come. 
I’ll be back in five minutes.” 

Before the dazed professor of bacteriology knew what 
was happening or could put in a protest Bannard’s car 
had given a lurch and darted down the road, and Greeves 
found himself walking across that squalid street, enter¬ 
ing the grimy unsanitary grocery and asking if he might 
telephone for the doctor. It reminded him of France. 
But is was very different from sitting in an office and 
telling other officers where to go and what to do. He 
had done reconstruction work, yes, by proxy. It was not 
the same. He had been an executive. But this was close 
contact. He hurried back with the idea of carrying Silver 
bodily out of the infected air, and found himself once more 
standing at the top of those ladderlike stairs in that white 
airy room, gazing at the little blackening face, listening to 
the gasping of the baby, the mother’s tears, and his 
daughter’s voice praying in low gentle tones: 

“ Oh, Jesus, you know how this mother loves her baby. 
Come and help us if it be your will, save this little darling’s 
life. For Jesus’ sake we ask it,” and the mother bowed 
and crossed herself, hushing her sobs. 

Someone brushed roughly by Greeves on the stairs 
almost upsetting his balance. To think these people lived 
every day on stairs like this. Incredible! A tall man, 
young, splendidly built came quickly to the bed and knelt 
on the other side from the mother and Silver. He took 
the little fluttering hand in his big rough one. His face 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


189 


was tender and there were tears raining down his cheeks 
but he paid no heed to them. 

“ Poppie come, Mary, poppie come! You hear poppie, 
Mary? Poppie come home from his work to stay 
with Mary! ” 

Greeves stood and gazed transfixed at the face of the 
rough man before him, transformed by love, tender and 
sweet with fatherhood! So this was what it meant to 
be a father! 

This was the way he would have felt if he had let 
himself! This was what he threw away carelessly when 
he took himself out of the reach of his first little child, 
and brought another carelessly into the world to leave to 
any Fate that came her way. 

“ Let poppie hold it Mary. Let poppie hold it! ,y 
the strong hand grasped the weak restless fingers, and the 
little hand relaxed. For an instant the great dark eyes 
opened wide in recognition of the beloved face, and the 
dark head that had kept up its restless motion back and 
forth, from side to side on the pillow rested. The 
parched lips that had murmured hoarsely—“No! No! 
No! ” were quieted. Then the blessed oxygen in the hands 
of Silver and Bannard reached her nostrils and she drew a 
long deep breath. The gasping ceased little by little and 
another breath came. A sigh of relief. The fluttering 
lids drooped and the long lashes lay on the white cheeks 
again. A restful natural sleep was coming upon the 
little one. 

The doctor came in quietly, laid a practiced finger on 
the fluttering pulse. The child started and opened her 
eyes once more. Her glance rested on the doctor in 
frightened question, then turned to the father aqd was 
content, dropping off to sleep again. The doctor nodded 


190 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


to Silver in answer to some question about the oxygen, 
opened his case and prepared some drops which he handed 
to Angelo. The father took it and held it to the little lips 
with as much skill as one trained to such service could 
have rendered. Greeves stood there watching him with 
almost jealous eyes, seeing as in a vista a long line of 
tender services he might have rendered had his heart been 
right to his own. Where did this rough untaught man 
learn such angelic gentleness? Here in this bare little 
house with an environment of the plainest necessities, the 
father had fenced in a little piece of the kingdom of heaven 
for his child. Greeves suddenly realized that he was 
envying this rough untaught working man. With all his 
knowledge and culture he had missed the blessedness of 
living which this other man had found, and even his sor¬ 
row was sacred because of the love that was between him 
and his child. 

Bannard had gone out again and now returned bring¬ 
ing with him the district nurse. She quietly took things 
in her capable hands and the minister’s group was no 
longer needed. 

As he stumbled shakily toward the treacherous stair 
Greeves caught hold of the rude railing and gave one more 
glance back at the big brass bed with the exquisitely knitted 
white spread, and the wee white face framed in dark curls 
on the big pillow. The madonna mother was standing 
at the head on one side, the tender father kneeling at the 
other, tears raining unchecked down their sorrowful faces, 
and the face of the painted Christ overhead looked on with 
yearning eyes. It was a sight he never would forget. 

He felt his way down the dark chute, for it was little 
else, groping with his feet for the shallow steps, and 
stumbled out into the sunshine, silent and thoughtful. He 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


191 


forgot how it was that he came to go into that house of 
sorrow, forgot that he had let his child stay as long as she 
was needed, forgot the words of criticism he had prepared 
for Bannard for letting her go into the infectious atmos¬ 
phere. For the first time in years he had become a part of a 
great suffering universe. He forgot his own individuality, 
and his grievances, and his heart was throbbing with sor¬ 
row for another. 

Meantime, Athalie at home, was preparing an elaborate 
toilet for her evening with Bobs in the city. 


XVII 


Down the street from the direction of the schoolhouse 
proceeded a merry group of girls, stopping at their various 
respective houses on the way to leave books, lunch boxes, 
and tidy up hair and hands and face. Laughing and chat¬ 
tering they came on with a sudden hush of awe as they 
approached the Silver gate, so long an unopened portal 
to young people. 

Mary Truman and Roberta Moffat went first by rea¬ 
son of Mary’s having been the instigator of the function. 
Mary’s heavy braid of bright long hair had needed little 
tidying. It ended in a massive wave of gold below the 
crisp dark blue ribbon, and frilled in little golden tendrils 
about her face. Mary wore no hat to rumple the smooth¬ 
ness of the ripples from the delicate line of parting on 
her crown. She scorned hats, except for Sunday. 

Her neat blue and white checked gingham was just 
low enough to show the white of her throat, above the 
sheer collar that matched the rolled back cuffs and pockets 
banded with the gingham. The whole school thought that 
Mary Truman was always well dressed. Those little ging¬ 
ham bindings on the organdy pockets for instance marked 
the line between the banker’s daughter and other girls 
whose mothers had not the time to bother with such details. 

Roberta Moffat was short and fat, attired in pink 
chambray whose hem had visibly been “ let down ” and 
whose yoke had faded to a nice dependable flesh tint, but 
her round pleasant face was always wreathed with smiles. 
She had a glitter of white even teeth and a pair of nice 
black eyes above the little pug nose that was covered with 

192 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


103 


freckles. Always copying Mary as far as her limited 
means allowed, she wore no hat, gathered her scant 
locks into an attenuated pigtail, and acquired a habit of 
tossing back the straight locks that would keep falling 
over her eyes where the hair wasn’t quite long enough from 
a defunct bang to catch into the confining pink ribbon 
that started the pigtail. The ribbon was washed and 
dyed, and showed signs of droop, but had been retied and 
stuck out bravely for the occasion. 

“ I guess she’ll be glad when she sees somebody com¬ 
ing to call on her soon, don’t you, Mary? ” whispered 
Roberta with a soft giggle. 

“ I should think she ought to,” said Mary seriously, 
“ I certainly am glad you are all with me, girls. Just think 
how I’d feel now if I was alone!” and she squeezed 
Roberta’s plump elbow lovingly. 

Emily Bragg was tall and her sleek brown hair had 
been bobbed, not for purposes of style however. The top 
was longer than the rest and fastened at the side with a 
celluloid slide that gaye her the look of an old-fashioned 
china doll with painted hair all made up hard. She wore a 
straight little one-piece frock of brown denim with charac¬ 
ters worked around the edges in red worsted. On her 
head was a boy’s brown wool cap, one of her brother Tom’s, 
and the big shell rimmed goggles that sheltered her merry 
eyes gave her the look of a good natured boy. She climbed 
trees and fences, could whistle as well as any of her 
brothers, and everybody liked her, but she wasn’t a beauty. 
She was just behind Mary and Roberta, walking arm in 
arm with little Carol Hamilton, a slight little fairy with 
pink cheeks and short golden curls who always dressed 
in pale blue and was adored because she was so pretty. 

Della McBride was much taller than the rest, wore her 

13 


194 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


long brown braids in a coronet around her head and had 
big dark blue eyes with long lashes. The seriousness of 
her face was somewhat accentuated by a retreating chin. 
She was wearing a middy blouse and a dark blue skirt, 
and her companion Vera Morse, a quiet girl with pale 
eyes and her hair “ done up ” and brought in sleek loops 
over her ears, wore a white shirt waist left over from 
last year, and a brown wool skirt. She carried a brown 
straw sailor in her hand, and talked in a low sweet voice. 

They were a wholesome group as they fluttered up to 
the steps and sounded the old brass knocker, their subdued 
chatter like the chirps of a bunch of sparrows on the 
garden wall. 

Anne Truesdale let them into the house and seated them 
in the drawing room dubiously. Such a circumstance 
had not happened since the days of Miss Lavinia, six whole 
callers at once in the old house! Then with deep reluc¬ 
tance, only goaded thereto by an indubitable conscience, 
she mounted the stairs and tapped at Athalie’s door. 

“ Oh, come in,” drawled that young woman affably, 
“ I’ll let you fasten this frock. I can’t seem to reach around 
there any more. I was just about to ring for you. It 
fastens up the back under that drapery.” 

Anne paused in dismay and surveyed the young woman, 
but made no move to investigate the hooks in question. 

“ There are some young persons down in the drawing 
room come to call on you,” she announced severely as if 
it were a reward far too good for the girl before her, 
but must be handed over for honesty’s sake. 

Athalie swung around and faced her. 

“ Come to see me? What are they? Men? ” 

“Of course not!” reproved Anne. “They’re 
little girls.” 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


195 


“ Little girls! ” scoffed Athalie taking up a powder 
puff and giving a touch to her nose, “ well, you can tell 
them to go to thunder! I’m busy. I hate little girls.” 

Anne gasped and tried to begin again, with fearful 
vision of what it would be if this strange freak of a girl 
refused to go down. 

“ Indeed, Miss Athalie, they’re quite grown up little 
girls. They’re some of them older than yourself, and 
they’re the daughters of the best people in this town. 
Your father’ll be quite angry if you don’t see them.” 

Athalie surveyed her coldly. She remembered that 
she was trying to please her father as far as it was com¬ 
patible with her own plans. 

“ Very well,” she said coolly, “ I’ll be down after a 
while and look them over, but I never had much time for 
girls, unless they have some pep, and I don’t fancy they 
have in this little old town. Are you going to fasten 
those hooks for me or not? ” 

“ Oh, Miss Athalie,” said Anne disapprovingly, “you’ll 
never be going to wear that frock downstairs at this time 
of the day! The whole village would be scandalized, and 
your father would be disgraced. The young ladies would 
not understand it I am sure. It’s not at all the custom to 
dress in that style of an afternoon.” 

Athalie was attired in a startling costume of scarlet 
satin and tulle, set off by long clattering strings of enor¬ 
mous jet beads, and pendant hoops of jet with long fringes 
dangling from her ears. Her hair stood out in a perfect 
thistledown fluff, scarlet stockings of sheerest silk, and 
tiny high heeled red leather slippers with intricate straps 
adorned her plump feet. Her face and arms and neck, 
of which there was much in evidence, were powdered to 
a degi^e of whiteness that reminded Anne Truesdale of 


196 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


a Bible phrase about whited sepulchres. Indeed she was 
a startling vision as she stood there imperiously waiting 
for Anne to fasten her scant shoulder drapery and looked 
years older than she was. Many items of her toilet which 
happened to be picked up from Lilia’s cast off finery doubt¬ 
less assisted in this impression. But when Anne finished 
her protest, and made no move to assist her ladyship, a 
storm arose on the whited face, and the red kid slippers 
stamped in rage. 

“ Thank you,” she said grandly, “I’m not in the 
habit of accepting advice from the servants about what 
I shall wear. You can go! I’ll get along without your 
assistance. I see I shall have to ask my father for a 
French maid. Go! I said! Go!” 

Anne went. 

When she reached the door she paused. 

“You’ll be down at once, Miss Athalie, please—! 
It’s not considered good breeding to keep young ladies 
waiting.” 

“ Shut that door! ” stormed Athalie. “I’ll be down 
when I like and not before.” 

Then in quite a leisurely manner she dabbed more 
powder on her nose, struggled with the refractory hooks 
until she conquered them, tilted a bit of a hat of scarlet 
straw and ribbon atop her fluff of hair, brought it well down 
over her eyes, jerked it aslant until the dangling cluster of 
overgrown cherries wherewith it was adorned hung well 
over one cheek. She surveyed herself in the glass com¬ 
placently, posed imperiously, then took up a pair of long 
black gloves, an evening coat of black satin with a collar of 
white fur, and slowly descended the stairs. 

Down in the drawing room the waiting girls were hav¬ 
ing a grand time. They had been little children when 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


197 


last they remembered coming to that dim shrouded room 
to call on dear Miss Lavinia whom each one of them had 
loved. They went quietly about looking at the portraits 
and whispering at first, giving bits of memoirs that were 
family traditions in their homes. Gradually they settled 
down to await their hostess’ coming. 

“ We ought to have told Mrs. Truesdale not to have 
her dress up, ” said Mary, “ we should have said we’re 
just from school.” 

“ Oh, well, what’s the difference. She’ll come pretty 
soon,” said Roberta, “ I like to sit in this big room and 
wait. Won’t it be a grand place to have the Christian 
Endeavor social? My! I hope she asks us. We could 
toast marshmallows at that fire, and there’s room for a 
long line of chairs for Going-to-Jerusalem. The boys 
always like that so they can rough-house.” 

“ Maybe Mr. Greeves might not like rough-housing,” 
suggested Della. “ He’s a very great writer my 
father says.” 

“ Oh we’ll get father to invite him over that night so 
he won’t hear it,” said Mary happily. “ Father can always 
fix people so they don’t mind things.” 

“ Well, I’m sure I don’t think its very polite of her 
keeping us waiting so long. There won’t be any time 
to take her walking nor show her the schoolhouse before 
supper if she doesn’t hurry.” 

“ Maybe she was taking a bath,” suggested practical 
Emily Bragg. “ You know you couldn’t come down 
all soap.” 

The girls giggled. 

“ Shh! ” said Mary, “ I think she’s coming.” 

“ I wonder what grade she’ll be in,” whispered Carol. 

“ Sshhh! ” said Roberta, “ there she is! Oooohhh! ” 


198 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


Athalie flashed on their vision between the portieres, 
and stood, one hand holding- back the heavy curtain, her 
evening cloak still on her arm, and looked them over half 
contemptuously. They arose en masse, in silent, breathless 
wonder. They had never seen anything like it before not 
even in the movies. Silver Sands was rather careful what 
films came to town. Mrs. Truman headed a committee of 
patrons who assisted the managers in making their 
selections. 

At last Athalie broke the stillness which was growing 
fairly electric: 

“ I’m Miss Greeves! ” she announced, “ did you want 
to see me?” 

The girls might have been said to huddle in a group, 
feeling suddenly that in numbers was strength. Mary 
as leader and instigator of the expedition gave a frightened 
glance behind her, and stepped bravely up as her father 
would have done if he had been there. 

“ We’ve come to call,” she said pleasantly, watching 
the twinkling earrings with curious fascination, “ mother 
thought you might be lonesome—” 

“ Very kind, I’m sure,” responded Athalie insolently, 
“ I was just going out, but it’s early. I can spare a 
few minutes.” 

She flung her cloak and gloves on a chair and sat 
down, her scarlet tulle draperies flaming about her. She 
sat with the pose of a society lady, her body flung rather 
than seated upon the chair. The girls were deeply im¬ 
pressed, all but Emily Bragg who wanted to laugh. 

“ We don’t have to stay,” said Emily, “girls, let’s 
go over to Mary’s and make fudge if she’s busy.” 

“We just came in because we thought you might be 
lonely,” repeated Mary again, deeply embarrassed. 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


199 


“ Oh, I’m never lonely,” flipped Athalie, “ besides I 
have hosts of friends who’ll soon be here to see me from 
N’York. I’m going to have a house party next week, 
sixteen in all, eight girls and eight men! ” 

“ Men? ” echoed Roberta wonderingly. 

“ Yes, eight men. Of course it’s awfully hard to get 
them this time of year when it’s so near time for exams, 
but they’ll be here for the week ends.” 

“ Oh, you mean examinations,” said Della seriously. 

“We thought perhaps you’d like to join our Chris¬ 
tian Endeavor society,” braved Mary. “ It’s awfully 
interesting.” 

“ I don’t imagine so. What is it? A dancing club? ” 
queried Athalie indifferently. 

“ Oh, no! ” said Mary, two red spots appearing on 
her pretty cheeks. She felt she wasn’t getting on very 
well somehow, “ it’s just our young people’s society. We 
have lots of good times. Picnics and socials, and we play 
games, and then we have our meeting Sundays—” 

“ What kind of games? Bridge? Five Hundred? or 
do you go in for athletics ? I don’t suppose you play golf ?” 

“ Bridge? Oh, no, not bridge! ” said Vera. 

“ Nor five hundred,” said Della, “ just games.” 

“ My father plays golf,” said Carol. “ I’ve tried it but 
I don’t care much for it. It’s too slow. I like tennis better. 
We have tennis courts at the school.” 

“Are you going to start school right away? We’ve 
been wondering what grade you’d be in.” 

“I? School? Oh, I’m done with school! Dad tried 
to talk school to me \yhen I first arrived, but I let him 
understand he couldn’t make anything on that line. I m 
certainly sick of school. Of course we had piles of 
fun at the last one, pajama parties every night, and screams 
of times. The boys from the prep weren’t far away, 


200 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


and they were always onto us when any of us got a box, 
so they’d come over under our windows and we’d throw 
down cake, and they’d tie boxes of candy and cigarettes 
on the strings we let down, and notes, oh, say! Those 
boys were the limit! There was always something new. 
But what bored me was the teachers! They didn’t seem 
to remember that they had ever been young, and they 
kept at us continually, nagged us about our lessons, and 
exams, it made me hot! They were getting paid for us 
being there! I don’t see what more they wanted.” 

Silence, prolonged and heavy ensued. The girls looked 
at one another awe stricken for the father whose daughter 
had so little daughterly respect. They all had fathers 
whom they loved, fathers who were trusted, tried com¬ 
panions. It didn’t quite go down. Athalie realized she 
had struck a wrong note. She liked to shock people but 
when it came to being looked down upon, she didn’t quite 
like it. Neither did she understand the look of awe and 
disapproval on their young faces. Emily Bragg began 
to giggle as if somehow she were some sort of show. The 
others darted quieting glances of rebuke. Athalie felt she 
must break this silent disapproval. She hated them for 
not admiring her. She got up with a swagger and whipped 
out her cigarette case. 

“ Oh, excuse me girls, do you smoke ? Have a cigar¬ 
ette. ” She passed the gold trinket to Mary. 

Mary seemed to turn pale. She got up and took a step 
toward the curtained doorway. 

“ I think we must be going,” she said coldly. 

“Oh, don’t you smoke? Not any of you? How 
tiresome! Then I’ll order tea. Truesdale! ” she lifted her 
voice, “tea for the ladies! ” 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


201 


Anne appeared instantaneously, as though she had not 
been far away, her face white with emotion. 

The girls eyed one another uncertainly. They wanted 
to get away. They did not any of them drink tea. It 
was not allowed in most of their homes at their age unless 
they were ill. They didn’t like it. 

But the tea wagon appeared as if by magic, and behold 
Anne had provided lemonade as well as tea! And there 
were heaping plates of angel cake and chocolate cake. 
No one ever caught the servants in that house napping. 
They were always on the job and always anticipating every 
possible contingency. Molly was even then in the pantry 
concocting another cake to take the place of those for 
dessert that evening along with the strawberries. 

Athalie had lighted a cigarette and taken a few puffs 
at it delicately as the tea wagon was brought in. Now 
she poured herself a cup of tea and drank it with several 
pieces of cake while Anne was serving the girls. 

Mary with her plate in her hand looked up to find 
Athalie’s eyes upon her with amused contempt. Her 
heart cried out to get away and weep on her mother’s 
shoulder. She never had felt so utterly outraged in the 
whole of her happy protected life. It seemed as if the 
very foundations of her clean beautiful world had been 
torn away and flung to the four winds. “ I hate her! I 
hate her! ” her heart kept saying over to herself. 

“ I thought you were going to ask her over to your 
house tonight to make fudge,” suggested Roberta in a 
loud whisper, and Mary, lifting her eyes perceived that 
Athalie had overheard. 

“ We were going to make fudge tonight at our house,” 
said Mary thus prodded. “ I live next door. Would you 
like to come? We’ll have a lot of fun.” 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


202 

“Any men coming? ” asked Athalie speculatively. 

“ Men? ” queried Mary half puzzled, “my father—” 

“ She means the boys,” said Emily Bragg, “ my good¬ 
ness ! ” and giggled. 

“ Our high school boys will be there,” said Mary truth¬ 
fully, hoping Athalie couldn’t read it in her eyes how 
much she did not want her. 

“Boys?” said Athalie, “awfully young I suppose? 
Well, I’m sorry but I can’t make it tonight. I expect to 
spend the evening at the roof garden in the city, maybe 
a cabaret or two afterwards. I sha’n’t be home till quite 
late. Sorry—some other time perhaps. Now, I’ll have 
to ask you to excuse me. It’s getting late. So glad you 
called. Good-bye.” 

She gathered up cloak and gloves and marched grandly 
out of the room, down the hall and out the front door 
just as Anne Truesdale appeared with another plate of 
cookies to supplement the rapidly disappearing cake. She 
had intended to leave word with Anne Truesdale that 
she had gone to bed with a sick headache and did not wish 
to be disturbed for dinner, and then to descend to the 
street by way of the pergola, but the temptation to sail 
grandly out before these girls was too great and she fol¬ 
lowed her impulse. There would be a way out of it all after 
she had had her fun, and the momentary vision of Anne, 
startled, her mouth dropped open as she watched her leave, 
did not worry her at all as she adjusted her long cloak 
and sailed jauntily down the street. 

Over at Vandemeeter’s every eye was watching, as 
they had been since the school girls entered. It made a 
pleasant little stir in the monotony of the day to feel that 
festivity going on. It recalled days when they themselves 
arrayed in best silks, new hats and fresh gloves had accepted 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


203 


Miss Lavinia’s sweetly, friendly invitations and felt above 
the common lot for a few brief hours. Ever since Arden’s 
wife had run in in the morning to tell them that the girls 
had planned to go they had gone about their work with 
a pleasant anticipation. They felt in a way concerned, 
and thought highly of the Trumans for having suggested 
the call, for was not this a public recognition? And if 
departed spirits were permitted a glimpse now and then 
of their old homes, would not Miss Lavinia be pleased 
that the town had honored her beloved boy’s family? 
They felt the Trumans had done the proper thing and 
were glad they belonged to a town that knew what to do 
in a trying situation. Glad, too, that the question of 
accepting Patterson Greeves or not into good and regular 
standing in the town had been settled so satisfactorily 
by the Trumans. No one ever questioned what the 
Trumans did. 

But when the scarlet lady with her flapping coat of 
black and white suddenly emerged from the old front door 
and sallied down the front walk with such an air, they 
gazed in amazement with bated breath, and no one dared 
whisper till she was out of sight. Then all with one consent 
drew back from their several windows and looked at one 
another as if facing some awful thought. 

“Who was she?” 

It was mother, her rugged face almost white with a 
kind of social fright, who broke the silence and voiced 
the wonder of them all. 

Pristina whirled back to the window and in a hard 
little voice answered: 

“It was her! The fat one! The one they went to 
call on! ” 

“ Oh, my soul! ” said mother, stooping to pick up a 


204 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


pin and unable to find it in her excitement. “ Oh, my soul 
and body! Why that’s an insult.” Maria licked her lips 
with the tip of her tongue with the motion a man uses 
to whet a scythe. 

“ Now I wonder what’ll happen!” she said, a hard 
glitter in her eyes, as if she rather enjoyed the prospect. 
Maria was one of those who having failed in gaining 
many of the joys of this life was not content to see others 
receiving them. Not that she was unkindly when it came 
right down to actions—only in a little cattish way with 
her tongue, and the expression of her face. 

They were watching the Silver house so hard that they 
failed to notice the minister’s car until it drew up in front 
of the gate. Mother strained her eyes anxiously. 

“ Well, anyhow, I’m glad it wasn’t that one. She 
seems to be real sweet.” 

“ Now, mother, you always jump to such hasty con¬ 
clusions,” said Maria. “ I’m sure I don’t see how you 
can tell whether she’s sweet or not at this distance.” 

Said Pristina thoughtfully: 

“ She’s sitting in the front seat with the minister! ” 

“ Yes,” said Maria caustically, “ seems to me it’s a 
little soon to begin that.” 

“ Maybe he began it,” said Harriet sympathetically. 

“ Not he! ” said Maria. “ He wouldn’t have to! It 
beats me what the girls nowadays have done with their 
modesty! ” 

“Well, where did modesty bring us?” laughed 
Cordelia. 

“Cordelia Vandemeeter! I’m surprised!” rebuked 
Maria. 

Then Silver and her father and the minister got out 
and went up to the house and the front door closed again. 
And what had become of the high school girls at tea? 


XVIII 


Barry Lincoln was helping Sam Fitch to build a 
fence for his chicken run. The Fitch place stood up and 
back from the street on a slight elevation among a grove 
of light maples. The chicken run was higher up the hill 
to one side and commanded a wide view of the road wind¬ 
ing round to the bridge, and over into the woods. It 
was the last house on the street as you went toward 
Frogtown from the south end of Silver Sands. 

Barry had just pounded his thumb trying to straighten 
a refractory nail, and had thrown down the hammer and 
stuck the soiled thumb in his mouth when the flash of a 
scarlet hat, and the flutter of scarlet tulle came into sight 
down the road. For an instant he stared in astonishment 
for such a sight was not native to Silver Sands and Barry 
knew everybody that lived there, by sight at least. Then 
something familiar in the swagger of the plump figure 
struck him and he drew his brows in a frown and turned 
a quick look at Sam. 

Sam was down on his hands and knees with his back 
to the street nailing wire to the base. He would not be 
likely to see her. Barry stooped and picked up his hammer, 
and began a tremendous pounding on the corner post, 
straightening another nail, his weather eye to the road, 
unheeding the blood which was streaming from his 
bruised thumb. 

At just the right instant as Athalie passed behind 
the group of tall cedars and was for a few seconds lost 
to view, he threw down his hammer with an exclamation, 
and called to Sam in an imperative voice: 

“ Oh, I say, Sam, run to the house quick and get me 

205 


206 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


a rag to do up this blamed thing. It’s bleedin’ like 
the deuce! ” 

Sam accustomed to obey Barry, his baseball idol, 
dropped his own hammer instantly and with a sympa¬ 
thetic glance toward his wounded companion steamed 
toward the house without delay. When he returned with 
the required rag and a bottle of arnica Athalie was well 
across the bridge. 

A tumult of thoughts was running through Barry’s 
brain, foremost among them the telephone conversation 
he had overheard the day before. Vaguely in the back¬ 
ground the sudden flash of coral and silver draperies and 
little shiny slippers, the tempest of words he had heard 
in the Silver hall the evening before, with the stormy 
sobs, lasting long after the music had begun. How much 
responsibility had he, Barry Lincoln, for this strange 
fat specimen of womanhood who wore pants and made 
appointments over the telephone to meet men from the 
city agreeing to stay till all hours of the night? Barry 
Lincoln’s code was a simple one,but it had an old-fashioned 
twist to its ideas of womanhood. His mother was a sweet 
faced, sad-eyed little widow who wore plain black dresses 
and did her hair smoothly except for the satiny crinkle 
of it around the edges of her forehead. She had given 
him the habit of a clean mind in the midst of a wicked and 
perverse world, and he somehow patterned his ideas of 
Girl and what she should be on a picture of his mother 
taken just before she was married, when the light of joy 
was in her face and her eyes were like reflections of the 
kingdom of heaven. Barry knew a whole lot more about 
the world than his mother had ever told him, but he had 
kept his clean habit of mind, and any deviation from it 
on the part of a woman, especially a young woman, gave 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 207 


him always a feeling of nausea. However, this was some¬ 
thing no one would ever have guessed. Barry was one 
who told not his thoughts among men. 

So, now, when he saw this poor little daughter of eve 
taking her way toward the path of temptation he was 
not interested. But the memory of a haunted look in her 
father's eyes the night before and the good comradeship 
he had offered on the evening of the fire, together with 
the lingering fragrance of cookies imbibed now laid upon 
Barry’s conscience a duty toward his fellowman. If this 
girl was really going on an unlawful holiday which might 
bring pain and shame to his friend, ought he not in all 
loyalty to that friend to do something about it? 

Out of the tail of his eye he watched the scarlet flash 
as it followed along the line of the road, crossed the bridge, 
left the road and crept up the hill toward the woods. He 
sat down on the doorstep and kept Sam’s back to the hill¬ 
side until the scarlet hat and the dark cloak disappeared 
into the woods, and only glimmered unnoticeably among 
the young leaves as it went farther and farther away from 
the road. At last his mind was made up. 

“ Doggone it, Sam, now that hand’s goin’ to be no 
good today. Wha’d I have to pound that for ? Clumsy! 
Say, Sam, les finish this t’morra. What’d’ya say we take 
a day off and go see if we can find Beazley? He ought 
to be back home from his aunt’s by this time and it isn’t 
much of a run over to the Corners. Say, you go get the 
roadster and run her over to the Pike, an’ I’ll skip across 
to the creek where I was yesterday morning and see if 
I can find my knife. I’ll meet you up by the old camp 
entrance in about fifteen minutes. But if it’s half an 
hour or longer you stick, for I’ll be there! Beat it now, 
and don’t talk, Sam. Remember to keep yer mouth shut! ” 


208 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


Sam hurried away with a light of eagerness in his eyes 
and Barry arose and took long strides across the fields 
toward a spot in the landscape a quarter of a mile to the 
north of where Athalie had entered the woods. As he 
disappeared among the undergrowth he cast a speculative 
eye to the distant road, but no one was to be seen as yet. 

Now the “ roadster ” above mentioned was as much 
a part of Barry Lincoln’s existence as his dog or his fish¬ 
ing rod or anything but his mother. It was called the 
“ roadster ” by courtesy because it could get over the road 
so rapidly, but there was nothing about it that would 
have suggested that name in the modern acceptation of 
the term. It was ancient and worn and stripped of every, 
thing that it could be stripped of and be. It consisted 
merely of its throbbing loyal heart, its four wheels, and 
enough timber and metal to keep them from flying apart 
when they went catapulting through space. However Barry 
and whomever he elected to take with him as a companion 
managed to stick on and always come home alive was a 
continual wonder in Silver Sands. People told Mrs. 
Lincoln that they didn’t see how she stood it having her 
son go off in that awful thing, that it wasn’t safe and it 
wasn’t Christian, and he always looked as if he was going 
to destruction and was glad of it, that they should think it 
would affect his morality, a boy like that to own an infernal 
machine. He was in daily danger of becoming a murderer l 

And besides, how could they afford to keep it! 

When they twisted on that prying look and said that 
about affording—it was usually the people for whom 
she did plain sewing that said that—Barry’s mother always 
crinkled up her lips into a smile that let little gold lights 
into her brown eyes and made her look like Barry, and 
answered always quite pleasantly: 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


209 


“ Oh, the old roadster is one of the family. We 
couldn’t live without that. Barry never has killed any¬ 
body yet. I hope he never wilL ,, And she never even 
reminded them how he had saved a girl’s life once with it, 
running after a machine that had got out of her control, 
nor how he rushed Tad Moffat to the hospital in the city 
in time to save his hand, the time he got it caught in 
the reaper. 

But if you had asked the boys of the town about the 
old roadster they would have told you that Barry made 
it “ out of pieces of nothin’ off the junk heap behind the 
garage ” and that its chief characteristic was that it could 
“ go like the devil.” 

It was this same go-devil that Sam climbed into, as 
it stood waiting under its oilcloth lean-to beside the Lincoln 
cottage, and presently shot out of the yard and around 
the Creek road toward the Pike, a proud lad that Barry 
had selected him to run his car. 

Barry himself had rustled across the creek by a route 
well known to himself, and stolen up to a favorite rendez¬ 
vous of his own near an old tree under which he often 
sat by the hour fishing, looking down from his perch on 
a rock into the limpid stream below, or swinging up in the 
trusty branches above, from limb to limb till he reached 
a point where all the woods was an open book and himself 
enveloped in foliage. 

It was to this point of vantage that he now hastened, 
silently, stealthily, as only such as he knew how to go. 
The tree was the tallest in all the region round about. 
Looking east from its height he could see the Flats of 
Frogtown with the gleaming water and Silver Sands shin¬ 
ing in the late afternoon sun. Between him and the Flats 
wound the smooth white ribbon of a, road, and far as he 


14 


210 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


could see a black speck sped like a spider down its thread. 
He watched it an instant and then his eyes scanned the 
hillside below him, down through the trees. Yes, there 
was a gleam of scarlet. Her hat. She had thrown it on 
the ground and was sitting on the log. Her scarlet frock 
was spread about her radiantly like a splash of vermilion 
in the spring newness of green. She seemed like some 
great scarlet tanager waiting for its mate. Yet when she 
lifted her face to look up at the strangeness of her sur¬ 
roundings, her bare neck and arms, her painted lips and 
pencilled brows, the white, white whiteness of her face 
seemed out of place there in the holy quiet of nature’s 
temple, a parody on a living soul, stark and shameless in 
a setting of God’s things as they are. Something of this 
thought perhaps entered the boy’s mind as he saw her 
first, half startled to realize how near he was to her trysting 
place, half tempted to slide quietly down and slip away 
before she discovered him. 

Yet her waiting, listening attitude held him. She was 
evidently expecting someone. If the guy she had phoned 
up should turn out to be an all-right fellow, why then 
he would just make a quiet getaway and join Sam, and no 
one the wiser. If, on the other hand, he should turn out 
to be one of these fresh rotters from the city he could let 
him know where to get off and see that no harm came to 
that silly little simp down there, just for the sake of her 
father who was a good old scout. 

Presently Barry turned his eyes westward and noted 
the “ roadster ” darting along like a small black bug as if 
it had the speed of a thousand-legger. He watched it to 
the Pike, and knew when it passed behind the old red 
barn that Sam would be waiting there for him should it 
be ten minutes hence or ten hours. Then he glanced to the 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


211 


south and saw the other car, coming at full speed down 
toward the bridge. Now, if he was right this would be 
his city man. There were two other cars coming, Eli 
Ward’s old gray limousine that he bought for two hundred 
and fifty dollars and fixed up himself, and the grocery 
delivery, speeding recklessly back from the afternoon 
rounds. But this was a strange car he saw at a glance, 
and presently it came to a halt, just below the group of 
chestnut trees, and a head came out and looked around. 
The car jerked on a few feet farther and the man got out, 
looking around him uncertainly. He measured the dis¬ 
tance from the bridge with his eye and began an ascent 
at random, looking this way and that, furtively. As he 
came on there were places where the branches were thin 
and his face was in full view. Barry studied him curiously. 
He was tall and thick set, with a heavy jowl and a tiny 
black moustache over his full red lips. He had taken off 
his hat and was mopping his face. The climb seemed to 
be hard on him. As he looked up once the boy was aston¬ 
ished to see that he was not young and that there were 
bags under his eyes, puffy places that belonged to a 
high liver. 

“ He’s old enough to be her grandfather! ” thought 
Barry disgustedly, “ what a doggone little fool! ” 

Athalie arose and poised on the log with outspread 
arms, and the man cautiously approached, a hungry bestial 
glint in his eye that the boy in the tree resented. 

“ He’s rotten! ” said the boy to himself. “ Gosh! what’ll 
I do about this ? Her father oughtta keep her in! Gee! ” 

The man was upbraiding Athalie for coming in such 
a noticeable dress. “ Are you sure nobody saw you come ?” 
he asked her in a surly tone smoothing the plumpness of 
her bare arms with his well groomed hand as he talked. 


212 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


“ It won’t do to have your dad get onto us,” he added, 
“ you’ve got to be careful you know.” 

Athalie pouted, and the man talked to her in a low 
rumble. Barry could not hear many words. He wished 
he were well out of that tree and back making a chicken 
run. He wished he had never gone to that fire in Frogtown 
nor met the new Silver man, nor taken his old worms to 
him. Heck! What a mess! What did folks want to be 
fools for? 

The word “ divorce ” floated up once, and then some¬ 
thing about the state line. He heard Athalie protest that 
she must go home and get on a white dress, but the man 
insisted that he could not wait, it was now or never. What 
on earth did it all mean ? The state line was miles to the 
south. Premonition filled his breast. That man certainly 
was a rotter. He wished he could get down and punch 
his head, but it didn’t seem to be advisable at the moment. 
He didn’t know enough about things to interfere. Maybe 
the man was just wanting to take her back to her mother. 
Her mother was divorced from her father. Sure , that was 
it. Some conspiracy to get her away to her mother again. 
Well, why worry ? Wouldn’t that be a good thing for Mr. 
Greeves? From all he had heard the night before, and 
all the gossip that had been going around the town that 
day, he would not expect his new friend to be deeply 
grieved at his daughter’s disappearance. And yet—he 
didn’t like that man’s face! Of course he might be her 
uncle or something come after her. But anyhow, he didn’t 
like the way the man felt of her wrist. It wasn’t nice. 
Gosh, she was just a kid! Just a foolish little kid. She 
was too fat of course. She’d been eating too much candy 
and soda water. If she’d only get into condition, and 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


213 


take a little training she’d be all right. Gosh! He’d like 
to punch that man’s head even if he was her uncle! 

While he was thinking these things the two below 
him suddenly got up and began to move down toward 
the road. The man made the girl put on her cloak and 
turn the white fur inside out of sight. He made her 
hold up her scarlet dress so it wouldn’t show below the 
black, and tuck her red hat under the cloak, and then he 
pointed down the road to where a clump of bushes were 
embowered with wild honeysuckle, close to the roadside 
making a complete refuge, and the girl hurried off and 
crept under it. The man waited, hidden in the grove till 
the bread wagon passed by, and then went down to where 
he had parked his car. 

A few rods up the hill in a shelter of laurel bushes a 
tramp looked out with greedy eyes like an old bird of 
prey and watched the girl. 

Barry waited only long enough to see the man turn 
about, drive to the honeysuckle harbor and stop. Then 
he began quickly to slide down the tree. As he reached the 
ground he heard the purr of the engine starting again, 
and his feet hardly touched the sod as he sprang away 
along the ridge above the creek to where a log spanned the 
water, across like a bird in flight, and up the opposite bank 
he ran. Now this field, and the roadster waited for him. 

“ Over! ” he shouted to Sam as he came panting up 
the hill and vaulted the fence, “we gotta hurry! Took 
me longer’n I expected.” 

“ Got’cher knife?” queried Sam as he moved over and 
gave Barry the wheel. 

“ Yep,” said Barry pulling his knife out of his pocket 
for a brief glimpse and started his engine. 

“ Say, which way you going, Blink? ” 


214 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


" You don’t wantta turn round. I turned here a pur¬ 
pose. You said you were going after Beazley.” 

“ That’s all right, Sam. We gotta make the state line 
now before another guy gets there. You sit tight.” 

Sam perceived that Blink had had one of his inspira¬ 
tions. This was an expedition! He settled his lank length 
on the airy structure of his seat and prepared to enjoy 
himself. Sam had pale blue eyes under golden lashes, 
carroty straight hair that stuck up like bristles, a gaunt 
mouth, and was peppered with freckles. He remembered 
contentedly that his mother was making apple dumplings 
for supper when he went in for the arnica. He glanced 
at Blink’s hand and noticed that the rag had disappeared. 
A smudge of blood on the finger was all that remained of 
the accident. 

“ Have any trouble findin’ yer knife, Blink? ” 

“ Nope.” 

The roadster was going like a bullet through the air 
now, its four wheels scarcely seemed to travel the earth. 
They had rounded the top of the hill and curved down 
into the lower thoroughfare. Far ahead on the road 
another car like a speck appeared, and disappeared. Barry 
eyed it steadily as he shot ahead, the speck in the distance 
growing visibly larger mile by mile. He let the roadster 
out a trifle more and watched the distance grimly. Was 
this his man ? He didn’t want to waste time. 

Sam pulled his hat over his eyes and flipped up his 
collar with a lank hand. His teeth were chattering. 

“ Gee! Blink, this is—grrr-reat! ” he gulped and held 
on tight, a trifle pale under the freckles. 

Barry shot ahead silently. Was that a glint of scarlet 
fluttering out the side of the car, or only a budded maple 
branch by the road ? 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


215 


At last they were within hailing distance and Barry 
let down his speed a trifle. He didn’t want to pass before 
the crossroad, now half a mile ahead. Strange he saw 
no sign of anyone on the back seat of that car, and only 
one head appeared at the front. If that was his man 
what had he done with the girl? If it wasn’t his man it 
was a pity to waste any more time and lose the trail. He 
began to cast about in his mind where his quarry could 
have gone if this was not the right car and to plan for 
instant action in case he found out his mistake. 

The car ahead did not turn off at the crossroads and 
three minutes later Barry shot ahead. As he passed the 
other car he was sure he caught a glimpse of something red 
like a big ball suddenly dropping down out of sight in the 
back seat. 

“ Lamp that car, Sam! ” he ordered grimly. 

Sam fixed his pale eye on a bit of mirror fastened 
in midair over the engine, but the car seemed to be coming 
on steadily enough. 

“ Watch if there’s more than one person in it.” 

Sam shifted the gum between his teeth and gave him¬ 
self to more concentrated effort. 

“ Thought I saw something move in the back seat,” 
he said at length. “ There it went again. Mightta ben 
mistaken though.” 

Barry thought he saw it too. He suddenly ground 
his brakes on and sprang off to kneel before his engine. 

“ Nut loose,” he explained to the astonished Sam 
who had been nearly precipitated to the ground by the 
sudden halt. He wasn’t quite sure which car Blink meant 
“ the nut ” travelled in. 

Barry’s car was well into the road. A passing vehicle 
must turn out if it went by. Barry reclined by a wheel, 


216 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


apparently deeply absorbed. At the very instant however, 
when the other car was about to curve by him, he was as 
by a miracle upright on his feet in the middle of the 
remaining road space, with one arm raised in distress. 
The on-coming driver had perforce to stop or submit to 
being a murderer. As the man ground on his brakes and 
jerked to a violent stop he let out an ugly oath, but Barry 
unconcerned asked nonchalantly: 

“ Len’ me a wrench? ” 

“ No! ” said the man shortly, “ mine’s lost! Get out 
of my way! ” 

Barry lifted his cap from his curls politely and grinned. 

“ Thank you! ” he said with his eye on the tonneau, 
and stepped out of the way. The car shot ahead, but 
Barry had seen what he was after, a big black eye peering 
up over the door of the car, surmounted by a travelling 
robe that seemed exceedingly alive. A flash of a white arm 
and a dash of scarlet showed against the darkness of the 
tonneau as the car swept by, and Barry was satisfied. He 
was on the right track. 

“ What’s eatin’ you, Barry? The wrench’s in its place 
under the cushion.” Sam eyed him puzzled. It wasn’t 
like Barry to forget anything. 

“Oh, is it? ” said Barry innocently, swinging up on 
his minute cushion, “ pile in, boy, we gotta hurry.” 

Sam scrambled back into place again as the roadster 
leapt forward. The other car was some distance ahead 
now. Barry seemed to have lost interest in it. Sam 
couldn’t make him out. Somehow Sam never could quite 
make out Barry. He said so to the boys once and Ben 
Holden told him it was because he hadn’t any sense of 
humor, but that troubled Sam still more, because what 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


217 


did a sense of humor have to do with understanding a per¬ 
son who was perfectly grave and serious ? 

Whenever they came near a crossroad or a village, 
Barry speeded up. Sam kept hoping he would stop and 
buy something to eat. He kept remembering those apple 
dumplings. The sun was getting lower and lower. A 
dank little breath swept up from the valley, full of sleepy 
violets and drowsy bees humming. The birds were calling 
good night. Sam’s legs were long for the space allowed 
on the roadster. He grew uneasy. 

“ Say, what time do you expect to get home for 
supper?” he questioned, shifting a leg, and putting his 
hand under his knee surreptitiously to ease the stiffness. 

“ Don’t expect! ” said Barry crisply, “ if you do you 
might get disappointed. Hungry, Sam? Let you out on 
the road anywhere you say, if you like.” 

“ Oh, no,” said Sam detecting displeasure in his idol’s 
voice, “ oh, no, no, I’m just enjoying this, havin’ the 
time of my young life. Gee, it’s great. Only I was won¬ 
dering what your plans were? ” 

“ That depends,” said Barry, and said no more. With 
shut lips the two whizzed through the county, watching 
a little black speck ahead that grew dimmer and dimmer 
as the light of the sun failed. 

Then suddenly it seemed quite dark. The other car was 
only a place of blackness in the darkness, one could not 
be sure if it were there or only had been. There were 
lights ahead. They were nearing a town. The roadster 
reached the top of a hill leading down into the main street 
among dwellings. A little trolley like a toy plied to and 
fro with childish bells and lights. A church bell rang 
with a sweet wholesome call to prayer. Cottages appeared. 
A child under a light with a green porcelain shade looking 


£18 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


at a book. A family in the dining room eating their 
supper. Pleasant thought. Dumplings, apple dumplings 
with plenty of goo! Ummmmm! Sam looked wistfully back. 

The other car at the foot of the hill turning into 
the main street, stopped for an instant by the trolley. 
Barry made time and arrived in its immediate vicinity as 
it started on again. Barry slowed up. He let several cars 
and trucks and foot passengers get between him and the 
open road. Sam eyed him wonderingly. The other car 
had gone on. Sam hadn’t noticed it particularly. 

Barry saw it slow up in front of a drug store, and 
immediately he ran his car down a side street by the blank 
side of a real estate office closed for the night, and 
sprang out. 

“ Watch me, Sam! keep yer eyes peeled,” he said to 
his astonished vassal. “ If I don’t come back soon you 
folia. I gotta get that car and its contents back to Silver 
Sands t’night! See ? But mind you keep yer mouth shut.” 

He was gone in the darkness, and Sam, whirling 
dazedly round on his unsteady seat saw him vanishing 
round the car that was parked in front of the drug store. 
An instant more and he heard the door on the driving 
side slam and the engine begin to purr. 

“ By gosh! ” said Sam and unfolded himself to his 
full height on the curb stone. “ He’s a nut if there ever 
was one,” said Sam to the roadster aloud. 

The other car was moving! It was passing out of 
sight! Blink was nowhere to be seen. Sam must move 
too if he were not to lose him. Sam clambered to his 
task with sudden panic and threw in the clutch. 

“ By gosh! ” he ejaculated, but the roadster was already 
going so fast that his words fell backward on the real 
estate curb unheard in the darkness. Sam had already 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


219 


assumed his new importance. Apple dumplings were for¬ 
gotten for the time. He had to get that roadster home 
or he’d hear about it all the rest of his mortal days. Besides 
he knew his mother would keep plenty of dumplings warm 
for him on the back of the stove against his coming. 

He made out to see a dim outline of a car in the 
darkness ahead and followed, being mildly aware of an 
excited man on the pavement behind him shouting and 
waving his arms. 


XIX 


Anne Truesdale, bringing another plate of angel cake 
that had been put aside for “ the master ” sighted the minis¬ 
ter’s car through the front window, and urging the plate 
upon Roberta hastened to the door to meet them. 

It was Greeves who was walking ahead, and she put 
up her hands as if in prayer and almost curtsied in her 
agony, her words tumbling out in true old country style: 

“ Oh, master Pat, I’d not be troublin’ ye, but the young 
ladies is in there and ye’ll have to tell me what ye want 
done. I’ve fed ’em an’ fed ’em, everything there is left 
in the house, tryin’ to keep ’em from realizin’ they’ve been 
insulted, an’ now you’ll just have to do something about 
it. It’ll be a scandal in the neighborhood in five minutes 
after I let them be going, for Emily Bragg has an awful 
tongue in her head an’ she lives next door to Arden Philips’ 
wife, her that was Ruby Hamilton ye ken.” 

“Why, Anne, what’s the matter? Try not to be 
excited. Tell me what has happened? Who is in 
the house? ” 

“ It’s the young ladies, the daughters of yer uncle’s 
old friends, Mary Truman next door, and Roberta Moffat 
and them, six of them, nice girls as ever was, come to call 
on your daughters. And Miss Athalie first kept them 
waitin’ an’ then she come down all in a red party dress 
with that bare a neck, and no sleeves at all, and a little red 
hat like a red hen atop her, and them monstrous cherries 
a dangling—” 

Anne was almost sobbing as she talked, and was un¬ 
aware that Bannard and Silver had come up and were 
standing behind her. 

220 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


221 


“ Never mind, Anne,” said Greeves soothingly, “ it 
can’t be so very bad. You say they’re only little girls.” 

“ ’Igh-school girls, sir, an’ cornin’ on young ladies. Oh, 
but you don’t know sir, it was werry bad, werry bad indeed, 
sir. She come in an’ called herself Miss Greeves, and she 
offered them her smoking box, an’ then she orders tea 
an’ walks out that imperious you’d think she was a queen, 
sayin’ as how ’twas late an’ she had a engagement to go 
to the city an’ see a carabay on a roof, sir, whatever that 
may be, sir. An’ she’s gone—an’ I don’ know what to 
do with ’em. It’ll be all over town before the night, 
master Pat—! ” 

“ Is there somebody in there to call, did you say, 
Mrs. Truesdale? ” interrupted Silver suddenly. “ Why I’ll 
go right in! ” 

Silver ran up the steps and into the hall, flinging off 
her hat in her transit and dropping it on the hall console, 
tossing her gloves after it. She entered the drawing room 
where the embarrassed girls were huddled together, trying 
to get rid of napkins, eating furtive pieces of cake from 
the plate on the edge of the tea cart, and planning a hasty 
exit before any more stupefying and insulting daughters 
were presented to their indignant gaze. 

“ Oh, how lovely of you all to run over so soon!” 
exclaimed Silver ruffling up her hair with a merry attempt 
at smoothing it, “ now tell me who you are. I’m Silver 
Greeves, I suppose you know—or perhaps you don’t. Call 
me Silver please, I’ll feel more at home. And what’s 
your name? Mary Truman? Oh, you live next door 
don’t you ? Father was telling me about you this morning 
at breakfast. We’ll be friends, won’t we? Now you 
introduce the rest.” 

She had them all chattering together in a moment 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


222 

more and they hadn’t an idea she was a day older than 
any of them. She was small and slender, and had a smile 
like sunshine. They liked her at once and forgot their 
grievances. They began to tell her as one girl about their 
school, and their Christian Endeavor, and their fudge 
party, and she entered into it all eagerly. Christian 
Endeavor? Of course she would join. She had been a 
Christian Endeavorer at home. Fudge? She loved it. 
Of course she would come! 

Bannard stood for a moment in the doorway where 
he had followed to see if he could help out in the trying 
situation which he had easily sensed from the few words 
he had caught of Anne’s excited recital, and behold, this 
wonderful little girl had everything in the hollow of her 
hand. Then one of the girls looked up, Emily Bragg it 
was, and giggled. 

“ Oh, and there’s Mr. Bannard! Won’t you come to 
the party too? You like fudge, don’t you? ” 

“ Indeed I do, and indeed I will,” said Bannard eagerly. 
“ I was wishing you would ask me only I wasn’t sure 
whether the boys were invited or not.” 

“ Oh, yes, the boys are invited,” beamed Mary Truman, 
“ they don’t know it yet but I’m going to call them up on 
the phone. Say, Mr. Bannard will you see Barry Lincoln ? 
I’d like to ask him, but they haven’t any phone.” 

“ Yes, I’ll tell Barry,” promised the minister, and then 
Anne Truesdale with suspiciously red eyes bustled in and 
began pouring tea for the minister and Greeves. Silver 
jumped up and taking her father’s arm drew him around 
the group making him acquainted with each one, and 
the girls marvelled that she remembered their names so 
well. When they finally broke up and started home to 
get ready for their fudge party Silver walked with them 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


m 

down to the gate an arm around Mary and Roberta, her 
head turned backward to smile over her shoulder at the 
other three who were fairly tied in a knot to get closer 
to her, and so they took their adoring leave at the front 
gate to the great edification of the Vandemeeters, who 
felt that their heads were fairly reeling with the exciting 
program of the day. 

“ I declare, if this goes on,” said mother mopping her 
weary brow with her apron, “ I sha’n’t get half my work 
done. I do hope things will settle down pretty soon.” 

Over at the Silver mansion Anne Truesdale was gather¬ 
ing the scattered tea things, and trying to plan for the 
evening meal which had been robbed of several articles 
of its menu. Greeves stood in the front hall talking 
with Bannard, and watching Silver come brightly up 
the path, both men thinking how wonderfully she had 
turned the situation. 

“You have no cause to worry about her” said Bannard 
with a touch of reverence in his tone. 

“ I should say not,” said Greeves. “ She’s—she’s— 
like her mother! ” 

“ Didn’t I tell you,” said Bannard with a twinkle in 
his eye, “ that tomorrow about this time you’d begin to 
see God’s way taking shape? ” 

Greeves’ face turned sharply toward him a heavy 
shadow crossing his brow. 

“ Don’t talk to me about God’s way! ” he said harshly, 
“ I’ve seen too much of that. What about my other girl ? ” 
and a spasm of anger went like white lightning over 
his features. 

“ That will work out too,” said Bannard reverently. 
“ Give God His way and see.” 

“ Don’t! ” said Greeves sharply. 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


“ What about that man down at the Flats, that father! 
I can’t get him out of my head Bannard. That’s cruelty 
to make that little one suffer so. It’s cruelty to take her 
away from a father and mother like that. She isn’t going 
to live is she ? ” “ She has a chance, the doctor says. It 

depends a lot upon the nursing. The father and mother 
are wonders, but they don’t know how.” 

“ Do you know of a trained nurse you can get, 
Bannard? I’d gladly pay for one! Couldn’t we telephone 
to the city for one? Two if necessary. I’d like to see 
that child saved. Bannard if there’s anything that money 
can do you’ll let me help out? I’d like to make that much 
amends for the mess I’ve made of my life.” 

Bannard cast him a quick appreciative look. 

“ Thank you,” he said, “ that means a lot. There’ll 
be plenty of chances for that sort of thing. But in this 
case it isn’t so much a question of money as love. It would 
be hard to find a regular trained nurse that would fit into 
that household. You saw how primitive everything was. 
It would have to be somebody who could love them to 
make the service possible. I’m going down now for Mrs. 
Lincoln. I think she’ll spend the night there. She’s done 
such things before. She knows how to love.” 

After Bannard was gone a shadow of care seemed 
to drop upon Greeves’ face even while he was closing the 
front door, as he remembered his younger daughter. Now 
his was the disagreeable task of finding out all about what 
she had done and dealing with her. How sickening the 
thought! All the advantage he had gained, or thought he 
had gained in the morning would be gone with the first 
word. His soul shrank from the contest. He was angry 
and disheartened. How was he to reach her and make her 
understand, that at least she must refrain from outward 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


225 


disrespect to him and his family or she could not remain 
under his roof ? What was the secret of her strange nature 
that made her willing to do these astonishing things ? He 
hurried back to the drawing loom where he could hear 
Anne’s excited voice relating over again to Silver the 
chief points of Athalie’s offense. He could see how to 
Anne, what had been done was almost the unpardonable 
sin. To keep the honor and respect of the village was 
certainly among the first articles of Anne’s creed. With 
a deep sigh he pushed back the curtain and listened. 

“ I wouldn’t bother about it, Anne,” Silver was saying, 
“ Athalie probably hasn’t an idea how disagreeable she 
appeared. She is in a different atmosphere from any she 
has ever been in before, and it isn’t really her fault, 
perhaps, that she acts so. I don’t think the girls will say 
much about it. We are going over next door tonight, 
and we’ll just have a good time and make them forget 
about the other. After a little when Athalie gets acquainted 
and gets to know the ways of Silver Sands she will want 
to make 'them like her, I’m sure she will. Just now she’s 
rather strange and upset in all her ideas—” 

“ That’s all very well, Silver,” put in the father, “ but 
Athalie can’t publicly disgrace us. And she has openly 
disobeyed me it seems about the cigarettes. I can’t have 
that—in this house! ” 

“ She’s been brought up to see it I suppose—” 

“ Oh=—yes! ” said her father with a look of remem¬ 
brance sweeping over his face —“ of course she’s seen 
it every day. It’s her standard. But she’s got to learn 
that it isn’t mine! ” 

“ When she learns to love you, father, maybe that 
will make a difference,” suggested Silver shyly. 

The father’s face was hard. 


15 


226 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


“ I doubt if she knows how to love anyone but her¬ 
self,he said bitterly, “ it was the way with her mother. 
Anne, will you tell Miss Athalie to come down at once 
to the library? ” 

Anne was mopping up her eyes. She seemed to take 
Athalie’s misdeeds as a personal offense. Sacredly all 
these years she had guarded the honor of the family, and 
now to have it trampled under foot by an alien in one 
short afternoon was too much. Anne could not put it 
easily aside. It was an outrage, like having bad boys tear 
up the tulip beds after Joe had newly trimmed them, or 
scarring the family Bible. Anne could not get over it. 
She came sniffing back from the pantry door with a 
handful of soiled dishes and her cheeks red and angry 
looking. When she was excited her cheeks always turned 
fire red. 

“ But she’s not here! ” she affirmed indignantly, “didn’t 
I tell ye she’s away down the street like a big red peacock. 
I would have stopped her if I could but she’ll not mind 
the likes of me.” 

“ She went out ? ” queried Greeves startled, “ I didn’t 
understand you before. I thought you said she went up 
to her room. Are you quite sure ? Perhaps she’s returned 
and slipped up the back way.” 

“ I’m that sure, but I’ll go see, master Pat,” sniffed 
Anne, and hurried up the stairs. 

In a moment she was back again. 

“ She’s not up stairs, master Pat. And you should see 
her room! It’s like a hurricane. There’s frocks and 
shoes just where she’s dropped them, and stockings all 
over the place. It’s scandalous. If there should happen 
a fire—” 

But Greeves was already on his way to the front door. 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 227 

I’ll go out and find her,” he said in a low tone 
to Silver, caught up his hat from the rack and was gone. 

An hour later he came back with an anxious look 
upon his face. 

“ Is she back yet?” he asked Silver who had been 
hovering from window to window trying to think of a 
way out of the dilemma for her father, wondering if 
perhaps Athalie hadn’t run away back to her mother, 
considering once more whether she ought not to go away 
herself and so remove one stumbling block from this 
wayward sister’s path. 

“ I met a woman—she lives next door—Weldon, Lizzie 
.Weldon I think her name is. She said she saw Athalie 
go down the street toward the post office. She was stand¬ 
ing at the gate she said and watched her out of sight. 
She’s one of those hawks who knows everybody’s busi¬ 
ness. I used to hate her when I was a boy. She evidently 
wanted to find out where Athalie had gone. It isn’t hell 
enough to have these things happening but we have to have 
a lot of vultures around picking at the bones! ” 

“ Well, never mind, father. I wouldn’t feel too bad 
about it. It isn’t your fault, and things’ll come right 
after a while—” 

“ So you believe that too! ” he said eyeing her keenly, 
“ well, I must say I don’t. They’ve never come right for 
me yet. The thing I’m afraid of is they may confuse 
you with Athalie. I wouldn’t have a breath of scandal 
touch you, my Silver-Alice.” He came and touched 
his lips tenderly to her forehead. She lifted clear eyes 
to meet his look. 

“ Why, I wouldn’t be afraid of that, father. It isn’t 
possible.” 

“What makes you so sure?” he asked, “you don’t 


228 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


know what old carrion crows inhabit a village like this, 
till they once get scent of a bit of scandal. Why even 
really good women, women who live otherwise a right 
life, will snatch up such a thing and rush about carrying 
it from house to house till there isn’t a tatter left of 
somebody’s reputation.” 

Silver still looked untroubled, and shook her head. 

“ It can’t be,” she insisted, “ there’s a promise, don’t 
you know ? Listen! ‘ No weapon that is formed against 

thee shall prosper; and every tongue that shall rise against 
thee in judgment thou shalt condemn. This is the heritage 
of the servants of the Lord.’ ” 

He looked at her as a man looks at a beloved woman 
who has just uttered some sweet fallacy concerning which 
he does not wish to undeceive her. His eyes grew tender 
with admiration and yearning. 

“ You are like your mother,” he said with a strange 
embarrassment in his voice. “If only—” and then he 
stalked to the window and stood looking out for a long, 
long time. 

Dinner was late that night while Molly made short 
cake for the strawberries, but when they sat down Athalie 
had not yet arrived. 

“ It’s very strange! ” said Greeves looking at his watch 
anxiously, and he went himself to Athalie’s door and 
switched on the light to make sure she was not hidden 
somewhere to evade them all. 

He made Anne tell over again what she had heard. 

“ She said it would be that late,” insisted Anne, and 
she was going to the roof garden and a carabay! I’m sure 
that was what she said, carabay! ” 

Greeves looked thoughtful. What was that Athalie 
had said about somebody in the city bringing her out the 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


229 


first day ? Giving her presents, going to give her a theatre 
party? Surely the child couldn’t have gone in town to 
meet him without leaving any word. It was absurd. Never¬ 
theless he kept bringing out his watch and looking at 
it nervously. 

Silver too, seemed worried. 

“ Perhaps we better not go to that little affair tonight, 
father, unless Athalie comes in before it is time for us 
to start.” 

“No, that would be foolish,” he said. “Of course 
you must go. We will both go. Truman was an old 
friend of mine. I’d like to see him. She will come in 
before long of course. She is doubtless hiding not far 
away just for a freak. She is a strange child. I do not 
understand her.” 

But at eight o’clock Athalie had not arrived. 

“ There is no use fretting over it,” said her father 
as he walked restlessly up and down, realizing that he 
was more angry with her than worried. Why should he 
worry about a child whom he neither wanted nor loved? 
And yet for that very reason something in him rose and 
prodded his conscience. Why didn’t he care ? Why hadn’t 
he looked out from her birth that she was the kind of 
a child for whom he would have to care ? 

He went to the telephone and called up Bannard. 

“ That you, Bannard ? Say, that strange child of mine 
is still at large. Have you any way of finding out whether 
she took a train to town this afternoon, without exciting 
interest on the part of the whole countryside? Good. I 
thought you could. I suppose it is foolish to worry. She 
certainly seems able to look after herself, but somehow 
I feel responsible. Darned responsible! Thanks. Yes, 
we’re going over. See you in a few minutes.” 


230 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


Greeves and his daughter went to the neighbor’s, and 
Bannard went out to find Barry, but Barry was not to 
be found. His mother was gone to the Flats for the 
night to care for the Italian baby, and there was no sign 
that Barry had been home at all. Bannard sauntered down 
to the station and enquired of the agent who was just 
closing up, whether he could remember if Mr. Perry went 
to the city on the four o’clock train, and the agent said 
no, there hadn’t a soul gone on that train. It was late 
and he had to hang around waiting to give the engineer 
a message. There never was much travel in the after¬ 
noon—only a man and a boy took the six o’clock train 
and the seven didn’t even stop. It only stopped in Silver 
Sands for flagging anyway unless there was somebody to 
get off. 

He sauntered into the drug store and bought a tooth 
brush taking plenty of time in the selection, and the soda 
clerk was relating a tale about the “ jane who took two 
chocolate fizzes and a banana split that afternoon. Some 
red bird! ” 

He dropped in at the fire house to ask the chief 
if the first of the month would suit the fire company to 
have their annual service in the church, and keeping his 
ears open, gathered another straw or two more of evidence. 

“An ankle like a square piano!” Uri Weldon was 
saying with his coarse laugh. 

“ I wonder she didn’t scare the birds! ” said another. 
“ Some bathin’ suit fer a country walk! ” Then the 
front legs of the respective chairs came down reluctantly 
and the men straightened up to greet Bannard gravely. 
Everybody liked Bannard. There was nowhere' in the 
town he might not go, nowhere that he would be unwel¬ 
come. Young though he was he had that Pauline trait 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


231 


of being all things to all men, though it must be owned 
that the men at the fire house were all just a trifle afraid 
every time he came that he was somehow going to save 
some of them, and take them away from all that life held 
dear. They had no doubt in their minds but that he could 
“ save ” them if he once got them in his clutches. 

Slowly progressing up the street, stopping at Mrs. 
Hoskins to enquire if her nephew in the city had received 
the letter of introduction he had procured for him he 
learned incidentally as he had thought he would, that 
Athalie Greeves had passed there that afternoon about 
half past four “in a scandalous rig,” had gone to the 
drug store “ and it's the second time, Mr. Bannard, the 
second time in two days, and all those young boys always 
hanging around the drug store; ” had gone on from the 
drug store down the village street as far as she could see 
from the gate and passed out of sight without returning. 

“ And I threw my apern over my head and ran out 
to look,” added the good woman, showing that she always 
did her duty by whoever passed, that nothing should be 
missing out of the general report of the day. 

“ And I think her father ought to look after her better’n 
that, don’t you Mr. Bannard ? A young girl like that! 
And a stranger in the town. Folks might misunderstand 
her. Don’t you think it’s queer we never heard that he 
had any daughters before? ” 

Bannard finally reached Truman’s, but he had little to 
tell Greeves about his daughter except that she had not 
gone on either train to the city, and that she had been 
seen walking down the village street, and had bought a 
soda at the drug store. 

“ I wouldn’t be in the least alarmed, though ” he 
added in a low tone, “ there really isn’t anything much 


232 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


can happen in the town. They’re a friendly lot, even 
the pryingest of them. She’ll probably turn up at home 
before long.” 

Just at that moment the dining room door opened 
and in came the next act of the charade that was in 
progress, led by Silver who seemed to be the prime mover 
in every feature of the evening. The girls simply sur¬ 
rounded her and adored her from the start. Bannard 
watched her and his eyes lit up with that strange wonder 
he had felt when first he saw her the day before. A 
wonderful girl! A real unspoiled girl in the modern 
world. He thought of how she had gone into that sorrow¬ 
ing home in the afternoon and entered into the need; 
and now here she was the centre of all this merriment, 
and just as much at home, and just as self forgetful. 

It was remarkable that part she was taking in the act, 
playing her delicate features into the contortion of a 
haughty woman of the world. She was talented! But 
of course she would be. With such a father! And that 
spirituelle look must have come from the mother. He 
remembered the exquisite painted face. 

Then eager voices claimed him to come and join the 
group for the next word and he was drawn away to the 
other room. 

“ Oh, have you heard how the baby is ? ” a low vibrant 
voice asked as he passed her in the hall. 

So she hadn’t forgotten! She was in all this, a part 
of it, but she had thoughts for the anxious home. 

“ She is holding her own,” he said, “ I took Barry’s 
mother down there a little while ago. She will stay all 
night. You don’t know Barry’s mother yet. She is a 
strong arm to lean upon, a cool hand on a fevered brow. 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


233 


She knows how to do things without seeming to, and 
she loves people.” 

“ Oh, that is good! ” said Silver, “ tomorrow I will 
go and take her place awhile if I may.” 

“ It will not be necessary,” he said looking his thanks, 
“ but—you may if your father does not object.” 

“ Object? ” she looked surprised. “ Oh, he could not 
object to that. Of course I will go.” 

The company clamored for Silver and she was swept 
laughingly into the other room, but the minister felt that 
somehow between them a bond had been established that 
was very good to think upon. Only two days and he felt 
this way about her! But she was an unusual girl. Then 
he heard her ringing laugh, smiled into the eyes of the 
boys who were pummelling him to tell them the best way 
to act the word “ penitentiary,” and plunged into the 
matter before him. 

At half past ten they all went home, most of the com¬ 
pany being of high school age and not allowed late hours. 
The half-past was a special dispensation on account of its 
being Friday night and no lessons tomorrow. The minister 
walked down the street with Greeves and his daughter 
and stepped in a moment to learn if the prodigal had 
returned, or if his further services as detective would 
be required. 

They found Anne Truesdale sitting in the dark draw¬ 
ing room watching the street. She would not have owned 
to anybody, least of all her master, that she was praying 
for “ that huzzy ” but she was. Somehow Anne’s sense 
of justice wouldn’t allow her to let even a girl like that 
be wandering alone in the world in the darkling night 
without even a prayer to guide her. She deserved all she 
might get but oh, think of the disgrace of it all in the 


234 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


town. Anne didn’t know that she really cared more for 
the disgrace in the town than she did for the young girl’s 
soul in the dark. 

But there! See how all our motives are mixed! Anne 
was praying for her! That was something gained. Anne 
had begun to feel her responsibility, and leaven of that 
kind always works. It may take time on a cold day, but 
it always works at last. 

When the three discovered that the missing one was 
still absent they stood and looked at one another in dis¬ 
may, with that helpless air that always says: “ What 

is there that I can do next ? ” 

Then sharply into the silence of their anxiety there 
rippled out the insistent call of the telephone. 

Greeves hurried into the library to answer it, and 
the others stood breathless, listening, to his voice. 

“ Hello!” 

It was a man’s voice that answered: 

“ I want to speak to Miss Athalie Greeves.” 

“ Who is this? ” asked Athalie Greeves’ father sternly. 
“ Well, who are you ? ” The voice was insolent. 

“ I am Athalie’s father and I insist upon knowing to 
whom I am speaking.” 

“ I’m one of her mother’s friends. You wouldn’t know 
me. Call Athalie. She’ll tell you who I am. I want to 
speak to her! ” 

“ It will be necessary for you to explain to me first.” 

“ Why? isn’t she there? ” 

“ What is your business with her, sir? ” 

“ Is she there or not ? ” said the ugly voice. 

“ She is not ” said the father coldly. 

“ Oh, well, I’ll call up again! ” said the voice, and 
immediately the wire was cut off. 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


235 


Patterson Greeves turned toward the two who stood 
in the doorway and looked with a helpless dazed expres¬ 
sion for a moment, then hung up his receiver with a 
troubled air. 

“ That is very strange! ” he said. “ Somehow I get 
the impression that that man knew Athalie was away—or 
was trying to find out—” 

“ It is strange,” said Bannard. He made no pretense 
of not having heard. The voice on the telephone had been 
loud enough to be heard out in the hall. “ I wish Barry 
were here. I’ll go out and look for him. If she isn’t heard 
from by the time I get back we’ll begin to do something. 
Don’t get frightened. It’s probably only some school-girl 
prank. Barry will very likely be able to find out where 
she has gone. He’s a regular ferret. I never saw a boy 
like him.” 

Meantime Barry, out in the night, was having troubles 
of his own. 


XX 


When Barry Lincoln left Sam in the side street with 
the roadster and darted across the trolley track and around 
the back of the stranger’s car, the big man with the heavy 
moustache was visible in the brightly lighted drug store 
talking with the clerk at the back of the store. He was 
handing out some money and lighting a big black cigar 
at the taper on the desk. 

Barry drew himself up for one glimpse and saw that 
the girl was now seated in the front, left hand, away from 
the curb. 

He swept the street either way with a quick glance, 
saw no one coming in his immediate vicinity, gave another 
glance to the man in the drug store and made a dash for 
the door of the driver’s seat. 

Barry had grown up as it were in the garage, that 
is he had spent every available minute there since he was 
a small child, hovering over every car that came within 
its doorway, watching the men at work, as he grew older, 
helping with the repairs himself, and finally becoming 
so expert that they were always ready to give him a job on 
Saturdays and half holidays, and often even sent for him 
to help them discover what made the trouble in some 
refractory engine or carburetor. There was no car rolling 
that Barry didn’t know by name and sight, and wasn’t 
able to describe its characteristics and comparative worth. 
He was a judge of cars as some men are a judge of their 
fellowmen. Also, he had a way with cars. When he 
put his hand to a wheel it obeyed him. He was a perfect, 
natural driver, knowing how to get the best out of every 
piece of machinery. 

236 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


237 


And now as he slid into the driver’s seat with the 
owner only a few feet away, a strange unwarned girl 
beside him, a strange unfriendly town around him, a 
dark unknown way ahead, it was not a strange unknown 
mechanism to which he put his hand. He had known that 
car as a man recognizes his friend even when he was up 
in the tree some hours before and saw it coming down 
the road. 

The girl was evidently startled, but Barry, his face 
turned half away from her, threw in the clutch and was 
off in a whirl. 

“ Why Bobs! You scared me! ” cried Athalie, “ I 
didn’t see you come out, I thought I was watching you 
light a cigar. It must have been another man who looked 
just like you. Did you get the chocolates? Hand them 
over quick! I’m simply dying of starvation. 

Barry began to fumble in his pocket silently with one 
hand. He brought out a mobile package, half a cake of 
milk chocolate and dropped it into her lap. His eye was 
ahead. He had no time to waste. The owner of the car 
would be out in a second and raise a rumpus. He whirled 
the first corner he came to and fled down a dark side street, 
passed two blocks, a third that went perceptibly down hill, 
and darted into an old covered wooden bridge. 

It was pitch dark in there save for their own lights. 
The noise of the engine echoed and reverberated like an 
infernal machine. 

The girl was leaning forward looking at the package. 
An instant more and they roared out of the bridge into 
the quiet starlight. 

" Why, Bobs! I think you’re horrid! Was that all 
you bought for me ? And it’s not even a whole cake! ” She 
flung it disgustedly on the floor of the car and looked up 


238 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


angrily. “ Did you call that a joke f ” she asked with a 
curling lip, and then suddenly she saw his face, and was 
transfixed with horror. For an instant she held her 
breath, her eyes growing wider and wider with fright, 
then she let out one of the most blood curdling screams 
Barry had ever heard. 

Just at that second there lumbered into view the lights 
of a big gasoline truck that was hurrying to the end of its 
long day’s journey. One instant they saw it, the next 
they were in its very embrace. Barry curled out of the 
road just in time and back into it again, while Athalie 
screamed some more. 

They shot into a black road overarched with tall forest 
trees. The smell of the new earth leaped up to Barry’s 
taut senses with a soothing touch. The road as far as 
his lights reached ahead was empty. His woodman’s 
sense told him there was no one near. But how far in 
the night had that scream reached ? What straggler might 
have heard it and sent a warning? There! She was 
beginning it again! He must stop it somehow. A sudden 
thought came to him. He groped in the pocket of the 
door by his side. There ought to be one there, in a car 
like this! A man of that sort would carry one. Yes, there 
it was! His fingers grasped the cool metal, found their 
way with confidence and drew it forth. 

“ Bobs! Bobs! ” screamed Athalie. The echoes rang 
through the woods on either hand as they raced along. 
She was leaving the trail behind them for any straggler 
to report their whereabouts. This must not go on. 

Suddenly the dull gleam of the revolver flashed in 
front of her face. 

“ Cut that out! ” said the boy sternly. 

Athalie opened her mouth to scream again and instead 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


dropped her jaw just as the scream was about to be uttered. 
She turned wide, horrified eyes to her captor and sat 
white and still in her seat, cringing away from the weapon. 

“ Now,” said Barry, still holding the revolver in one 
hand, “ you might as well understand that you aren’t in 
any danger whatever if you keep your mouth shut, but if 
you yodel again like that I’ll knock you cold. Do you 
get me?” 

Athalie’s eyes acknowledged that she understood. She 
cringed still farther away from the revolver and he lowered 
it, keeping it still in his hand however. The woods flew 
by in one long sweet avenue of spring night. Barry settled 
to his wheel, eyes to the front, with a mind to the back, 
and a sort of sixth sense keeping tab on the girl by his 
side. He could see that the revolver had frightened her ter¬ 
ribly. Her face was too much powdered to admit of its 
turning pale, but there was a sagging droop about her 
lips and eyelids that betokened her whole spirit stricken 
with fear. She gathered her cloak closer about her and 
shivered. Her big, dark eyes never left his face except 
now and then to glance fearfully out as if wondering what 
were the possibilities of jumping overboard. Barry began 
to feel sorry for her. 

“ Nothing but a little kid,” he said to himself, “ A 
foolish little kid! ” 

Two miles farther on they turned into the high road 
and Barry slowed down a bit. There were two cars ahead, 
he could see their tail lights, but nothing coming behind. 
He turned to the right in the general direction of Silver 
Sands, and then looked at the girl. 

“ You needn’t be afraid,” he said half contemptuously, 
half gently, “ I’m not going to hurt you.” 


240 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


“ I’m not afraid,” said Athalie, some of the old 
spirit returning. 

“Oh!” said the boy. “All right! I thought you 
were! ” They speeded on again in silence. Presently 
Athalie spoke. Her voice showed returning temper. 

“ What are you going to do with me? ” 

“ Going to take you home to your father! ” 
said Barry. 

The young woman sat up suddenly. This then was 
no highwayman. This was some meddler in her business. 
He knew her father. He had somehow trailed her and 
recognized her. She was furious. 

“ But I don’t choose to go home,” she said indignantly. 

“ That doesn’t cut any ice,” said Barry crisply. 
“ You’re getting there pretty fast all right.” 

Athalie turned on him angrily. 

“ Look here,” she said fiercely, “ I’m not going to 
stand this another minute. Do you know what a terrible 
thing you’re doing? You’ll probably be put in prison 
for life for it. But if you’ll turn right around now and 
take me back to my friend I’ll tell him you just made a 
mistake. You didn’t try to steal the car at all.” 

“ Thank you,” said Barry a grim shadow of a smile 
flickering across his face in the darkness, “ I’m not worry¬ 
ing about that just now.” 

“ But you’ve got to take me back,” said Athalie, almost 
on the verge of tears, “ I’m on my way to be married! ” 

“ Not tonight! ” said Barry grimly. 

“ Well, I guess I’m not going to be stopped by a kid 
like you! ” burst forth Athalie. She suddenly rose with 
all her might and flung herself upon the wheel, and Athalie 
had some weight and grip when she chose to use them. 

Barry, utterly unprepared for this onslaught, ground 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


241 


on the brakes and put forth all his strength, trying to 
keep the wavering car from climbing a tree while he 
was bringing it to a standstill, but he managed to keep 
his head. 

It was a sharp, brief struggle, for Athalie’s muscles 
were untrained, and in a moment more Barry was holding 
her firmly with both hands and she had ceased to struggle. 
He had not again brought the revolver into play. He 
hated dramatic effects when physical force would do 
as well. 

But he could not stay there all night and hold her down. 
He cast about for some way of making her fast. There 
was a handkerchief in his pocket. He managed to get 
hold of it and crossing her hands bind them together. 

Her cloak had fallen off disclosing the flimsy dress 
and the long fringed ends of a satin sash tied about her 
waist. He pulled at it and found that it came loose. With 
this he bound her about across the shoulders and down 
to the waist. 

“You’re cold!” he remarked as he saw her shiver, 
“ and that flimsy coat is no good. Here, put this 
sweater on.” 

He pulled off hi-s own sweater and pulled it down 
over her head. She started to scream again, but he put 
his hand over her mouth, and when she was quiet remarked 
very gently: 

“ I hate awfully to treat a girl this way, but I’ll have 
to gag you if you try that line again,” and she knew by 
his tone that he meant it. 

“ I don’t think you’d like gagging.” 

Athalie began to cry. 

“ I’m sorry,” said Barry remorsefully, “ but you can’t 
be trusted.” 

16 


242 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


He was down on his knees now fastening her ankles 
together with a bit of old rope he had found in his pocket. 

“ But I’m on my way to be married ” sobbed out the 
indignant child, “ you’re spoiling my life —” she was weep¬ 
ing uncontrollably now. 

“ Excuse me,” he said quietly, “ I guess I’ll have to 
use my neck tie for a gag,” and he began unconcernedly 
to take off his necktie. “ I can’t have all this noise.” 

Athalie stopped short. 

“ I won’t cry,” she said shortly, “ but won’t you just 
listen to reason? Would you like it if you were going 
to get married, to be interfered with this way? ” 

“ Say kid,” he said gently, “ you talk sense and I’ll 
help you. You know you aren’t old enough to get married 
yet. And I say, did you know what kind of a rotter 
you were going off with? ” 

Athalie’s eyes fairly blazed. 

“ He’s nothing of the sort! ” she retorted, “ I’ve known 
him for years. He’s perfectly darling! He’s my 
mother’s friend.” 

“ Is that all?” said Barry witheringly. “I thought 
you were going to say your grandmother’s.” 

“ I think you’re perfectly horrid! ” said Athalie shrug¬ 
ging what was left of her shoulders, and drawing as far 
away from him as she could. “ You think you’re smart! ” 

“Look here, kid! There’s no use you’re quarrelling 
with the only friend you’ve got just now. I’m telling you 
facts. Can’t you listen to reason ? That man’s a rotter. I 
know his kind. If he’s your mother’s friend so much the 
worse. He knew he wasn’t doing the square thing taking a 
kid like you off that way at night. What kind of a rep would 
you have had, will you tell me, when you got back I’d 
like to know?” 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


243 


“ I wasn’t coming back,” sobbed Athalie softly, “ I 
told you—I—was ggg-g-oing to be m-m-married! ” 

“ Yes, in a pig’s eye you were! If that man ever mar¬ 
ried you, kid I’d eat my hat. He hadn’t any more idea of 
marrying you than I have, and that’s flat! This isn’t 
a very nice way to talk to a girl I know, but when you won’t 
listen to sense why you’ve gotta be shown.” 

“ He was going to buy me—a—s-s-string of real 
pearls! ” wept Athalie suddenly remembering, “ and we 
were going to have a turkey dinner! I’m—ju-s-t— 
st-ar-r-r-ved! ” 

Barry shrugged down behind his wheel disgustedly. 

“ You look as if you had meat enough on you to stand 
it awhile! ” he said contemptuously, “ I thought you were 
a girl, not a baby! ” 

Athalie held in the sob on a high note and surveyed 
him angrily. 

“You are the most— disagreeable boy!” she 
vociferated. 

“ I didn’t state my opinion of you yet. But you cer¬ 
tainly aren’t my idea of agreeable.” 

“ I didn’t ask you your opinion.” 

“ Say, look here,” said Barry, “ let’s cut this out. This 
isn’t getting us anywhere. What I want is for you to see 
some sense before I get you home. Your father’s a kind 
of a friend of mine and I’d hate like the deuce to have all 
this get out about you in the town. You see, whatever 
you think of this rotter you were going off with, the little 
old town would know fast enough what he was, if any of 
’em knew you were off in the night with him. You can’t 
kid the town! ” 

“ I haven’t the slightest desire to bother with your 


m TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 

little old town,” said Athalie loftily. “ It may go to the 
devil for all I care! ” 

Barry was silent with disgust for a moment. 

“ Well, if it does,” he said slowly, “ it will carry you 
on a pointed stick ahead of it, and like as not they’ll try 
out the point of the stick on your father first. You can’t 
kid the devil! ” 

There was a long pause. The night was very still. 
They had not passed a car for some time. The lights 
in the sleeping villages in the valley below them were 
nearly all gone out; moist, dank air rushed up in wreaths 
and struck them lightly in the face as they passed. The 
sudden breath of an apricot tree in bloom drenched the 
darkness. Over in the east toward which they were hasten¬ 
ing a silver light was lifting beyond the horizon and in 
reflection a little thread of a river leaped out from the 
darkness where it had been sleeping in winding curves 
among the dark of plumy willows. 

“ I hate you! ” said Athalie suddenly. “ You called 
me names! You’re a vulgar boy! ” 

“What names did I call you kid?” Barry’s voice 
was gentle. 

“You called me fat in a very coarse way! ” 

“ Well, you’re not exactly emaciated, are you ? ” He 
gave her a friendly grin in the darkness. 

“ I hate you! ” reiterated Athalie again, “ and I want 
to get out and walk! ” 

“ Anything to please you! ” said Barry quickly bring¬ 
ing the car to a full stop and reaching over to throw open 
the door by her side. 

Athalie was surprised to be taken so literally, but she 
made an instant move to get out, and then realizing that 
her ankles were tied she subsided again. 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


245 


“ Oh, excuse me,” said Barry and stooping unfastened 
the cord on her ankles, and sat back again. 

“ Are you going to untie my hands? ” she asked im¬ 
periously. 

“ Oh, no, I guess not,” said Barry easily, “ you don’t 
walk on your hands do you? ” 

She cast him a furious look and bounced out of the 
car, walking off very rapidly down the road with her 
shoulders stiff and indignant. 

Barry sat back and watched her. She went on swiftly 
till she came to the bend of the road, and then she looked 
back half fearfully. The car was still and dark as if Barry 
had settled for a nap. The road ahead wound into a 
dark wood, and the trees were casting weird shadows 
across the roadway. But no one should call her bluff. She 
would go on and show him. She stumbled forward on 
her little high heeled slippers almost falling as she ran 
fearfully toward the darkness of the wooded road. Then 
suddenly on her horrified senses came the distant sound 
of a motor in the opposite direction and a long thin fore¬ 
casting of light shot out with a blind glare ahead. Another 
car was coming! And it was away in the nighttime! And 
she alone on the road with her arms tied! Horrible fear 
seized upon her and rooted her to the ground. Then with 
a mighty effort she gathered her ebbing strength and 
turning fled. 


XXI 


In the first rod her right slipper flew off and lay at the 
side of the road but she waited not for slippers. Her 
silken clad foot went over the rough stony highway with 
the fleetness of a rabbit. She darted to the side of the 
car and panted: 

“Let me get in, quick! Quick! There’s another 
car coming! ” 

Barry leaned over and pulled her up, cast a quick 
glance to the oncoming lights, started his motor and 
dashed along at full speed just in time to pass swiftly as 
if he had come from a distance, and then when the passing 
car was out of sight remarked pleasantly: 

“ Have a nice walk? ” 

“ Don’t! ” said Athalie shuddering. He looked at her 
furtively. The tears were coursing down her cheeks but 
she was not making any sound. 

“ Look here, kid, I’m sorry! ” he said pleasantly, “ let’s 
call this off. You’re all in! And say! I’m going to 
untie your hands. I know I can trust you not to make 
any more trouble. We’re almost home now kid. Only 
a matter of about four miles, and we’ll run through the 
town as still as oil and get you home and nobody any the 
wiser. But before we get there you’ve got to make a con¬ 
tract to can that rotter or I’ll have to make a clean breast 
of the whole thing to your father, how you phoned to him, 
and how you met him in the woods, and what he said to 
you and all—” 

Athalie turned an amazed face toward him now, 

246 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


247 


smeared with powder and tears, and lit by the newly 
risen moon. 

“ You know—? ” 

“ Yep! Know it all! Saw you climb out your win¬ 
dow and go to the drug store. Was in the next booth 
and heard every word you phoned. Wasn’t ten feet away 
from you in the woods. I tell you, you can’t kid this town.” 

Athalie looked aghast. 

“No, you don’t need to worry. Nobody else knows 
yet, and I don’t intend they shall if you agree to can that 
man. Is it a bargain? ” 

There was a long pause, during which Athalie sniffed 
quietly, then she murmured: 

“ My father—he’ll half kill me—” 

“ No, he won’t! He’ll be much more likely to kill 
the man. But perhaps we can fix that up too. You leave 
it to me. Now, lean over here and let’s get those knots 
untied.” 

“ I didn’t say I would yet! ” said Athalie with a catch 
of rebellion in her breath. 

“ No, but you’re going to,” said Barry pleasantly, 
“ you’re not yella.” 

Barry worked away with the satin sash talking 
meanwhile. 

“ Say, kid, you know you’ll forget all this when you 
get acquainted in town and begin to have good times. 
What you need is to get into high school and play basket 
ball. You’d need to train down a little of course, but you’d 
make a great player. I watched you as you went up the 
road, and you’ve got the build all right. Say, some of 
the girls on our team are peachy players, but you could 
beat ’em all at it if you’d try. If I was you I’d begin to 
train down tomorra. Cut out those sundaes and sodas, 


348 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


and chocolates, and don’t be everlastingly eating cake and 
fudge. You’ll never make a player unless you reduce-—” 

It was surprising how their attitudes toward one 
another had changed. Athalie wiped up her smeary face, 
and began to take an interest in life. She even smiled once 
at a joke Barry made about the moon. She was rather quiet 
and almost humble. 

Barry grew almost voluble. He described in detail 
several notable athletic features of the past that had put 
their high school in a class with several large prep schools 
in the state. He opened out on the prospects for the sea¬ 
son’s baseball games admitting reluctantly on enquiry that 
he was their nine’s captain and coach. 

Suddenly the brow of the hill they were climbing was 
reached and there before them lay the plain of Silver 
Sands, with the belching chimneys of Frogtown glaring 
against the night, and off to the left the steeple of the 
Presbyterian church shining in the moonlight. It was 
very still down there where the houses slept, and the few 
drowsy lights kept vigil. Barry cast it a loyal glance and 
brought the car to a standstill. 

“ Look, kid,” he said with something commanding in 
his young voice, “ that’s our town, down there! Doesn’t 
she look great with her feet to the river and her head 
on the hills? She’s a crackerjack little old town if you 
treat her right, and no mistake. See that white spot over 
there behind the trees? That’s the pillars on the old 
Silver house. It’s a prince of a house, and the people 
that lived in it have always been princes. My mother says 
the whole country round has always looked up to the 
Silvers. They’ve always been real ! Do you get me ? It’s 
a great thing to belong to a family like that! ” 

Athalie turned her large eyes on him wonderingly and 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 249 

suddenly some of her father’s sentences of the morning 
came to her, sentences about gentlemen and ladies, and 
respectable standards, and their meaning went home on 
the shaft of Barry’s simple arrowy. 

Barry was never one to explain a joke or a sermon. 
He let it rest and passed to another line of thought. 

“ We’re going around on the beach road,” explained 
Barry, “ and come in the lane just below your house. We’ll 
stop at Aunt Katie’s where the minister boards and slip 
through the back hedge. Then there won’t be a whole 
lot for anyone to see and hear. Anybody might drive 
up to the minister’s door any time of night and nobody 
think anything of it. If Aunt Katie sees us she’ll keep 
her mouth shut. She’s a peach, she is. If you ever need 
a friend, tie up to her, kid. Now, before we go on I’ll 
trouble you for the name and address of that rotter! ” 

“ What are you going to do? ” asked Athalie in an 
alarmed voice. 

“ Got to return this car haven’t I ? ” 

“ Oh, why yes, I suppose so. But—he’ll be awfully 
angry! You might get arrested you know! ” 

“ Watch me!” said Barry lightly. “Now I’ll trouble 
you for that address.” 

“ I don’t remember the address,” said Athalie, “ I 
went there in a taxicab. It’s somewhere in a big apart¬ 
ment house. I got it out of the telephone book.” 

“ What’s his name then? You haven’t forgotten that 
have you?” asked Barry eyeing her suspiciously. “Is 
Bobs the first or last part of it? ” 

Athalie cast a startled glance at him. 

“ Farrell, Robert Farrell,” she answered meekly. 

“ That’s all right,” said Barry. “ I’ll look him up.” 
Barry started the car again and they were silent as 


250 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


they sped along for some minutes. Then Athalie asked 
in a scared voice: 

“ What are you going to tell my father ? ” 

“ Nothing much unless I have too,” said Barry easily, 
“ if you can that man he doesn’t need to know anything 
about it, but if I find you haven’t played square he’ll know 
the whole thing in about three minutes. It’s entirely up 
to you.” 

Athalie looked frightened. 

“ I won’t phone to him any more—nor write to him! ” 
she said at length, “ but I can’t be sure what he’ll do.” 

“ I don’t think he’ll bother you any more after I get 
through with him,” said Barry airily. 

Athalie cast him another frightened glance. 

“ You’d better be careful—” she warned. “ He’s got 
an awful temper.” 

“ So I should judge,” said Barry, “ I’m glad you’re 
out of his clutches.” 

The car slid along the Silver beach quietly as fine ma¬ 
chinery can be made to go. Past the belching furnaces with 
the night shift in sleeveless shirts moving picturesquely past 
the light in the rosy dusk of the big structures; past the 
ruins of the pickle factory, and the darkened windows 
of the rows of little houses; past the house with the lighted 
upper window where little Mary and Barry’s mother 
struggled with death the long hours through, and the 
stricken father and mother knelt each side of the bed and 
prayed; past the darkened cannery and the silk factory, 
and the buildings of the Sand Company, across the side 
tracks and the railroad; over the bridge that spanned a 
small tributary stream; and winding the back way into 
Silver Sands, down Sweetbriar lane to Aunt Katie’s door. 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


251 


There was a light in Aunt Katie’s upper front window 
as Barry helped Athalie out of the car. Barry looked 
up as they passed in the gate and gave a soft, low whistle 
like the chirp of a bird. But it was Aunt Katie’s voice, 
not the minister’s, that spoke in a low tone from an open 
side window: 

“ Is that you Barry ? ” 

“ Sure,” growled Barry cheerfully. 

“ Oh, you have found her! ” said the voice again, “ I 
am glad ! ” and there was something so vibrant and pleased 
about it that it thrilled Athalie. No one had ever been 
glad like that about her before. She had always been 
considered a nuisance, something to be appeased and 
gotten rid of as quickly as possible. She warmed to a 
voice like that and looked up wistfully. It almost seemed 
to her that she ought to say thank you. She had scarcely 
ever felt that thanking impulse before in all her wild 
young life. 

“ Sure I found her! ” said Barry. “ Mist’r Bannard 
over t’th’house? ” 

“Why, yes, he’s just gone back again. He said he 
and Mr. Greeves were going to the city to hunt for her. 
You better hurry.” 

“ Aw’right. G’night! ” and Barry led the way rapidly 
round the side porch, down through the garden and over 
the back fence. Athalie was stumbling painfully along 
the plowed ground with one little high heeled slipper and 
one silken clad sorry foot. As she struggled up on the 
fence Barry saw it. 

“ Say, kid, when did you lose your shoe? ” he asked 
solicitously. 

“ Up there on the road when I was running,” said 


252 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


the girl with a catch in her breath and looking up he saw 
that she was suffering and that there were tears on her face. 

“ You poor kid I ” he said gently, and stooping, picked 
her up and carried her all the way up through the garden, 
to the brick terrace at the back hall door. There he set 
her down gently, and tapped at the door. 

“ I wonder what time it is by moonlight,” he said 
glancing down at the sun-dial. “ It must be a good piece 
into tomorrow already. My time piece got kicked across 
the room the other day by mistake so I Have to get along 
without it.” 

Athalie stood shivering, a sorry little figure in her 
tattered scarlet draperies, with her smeary face, her hat 
jammed over one ear, and one torn silk stocking, but a 
faint semblance of a wistful smile went over her face 
as she watched the nice big boy beside her. How strong 
he had been, and how tender! It gave her that thanking 
feeling again. How strange! And yet how like a ruffian he 
had treated her out on the road and made her come home! 
Her mingled feelings held in check by the very salutary 
possibility that she was about to meet with a well deserved 
punishment from the stranger-parent inside the door were 
overwhelming enough without any addition. But when 
hurrying footsteps came down the hall, and Anne 
Truesdale’s face red with weeping appeared as she opened 
the door, Athalie suddenly remembered her exit from the 
house that afternoon and realized that there were many 
scores for her to settle, and shrank back behind 
her protector. 

Greeves and Bannard came quickly down the hall, and 
at the top of the stairs there was a soft stirring and the 
flutter of a blue bath robe as Silver leaned over the banister 
by her door to listen. 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


253 


Barry stepped within and lifted his old cap respectfully. 
He was in his shirt sleeves and his face looked tired and 
haggard but with a cheerful grin. 

“ She got lost, Mr. Greeves and took the wrong road. 
I happened along and brought her back. Sorry we had 
to be so late, but it was a good piece away. She’s about 
all in so you better put her to bed. No thanks, I can’t stay. 
I got a borrowed car over in the lane I gotta return. Oh, 
well, I don’t care if I do have some cookies.” 

They plied him with plates of cake and cups of coffee 
and took the attention entirely away from Athalie, and 
the girl thankfully slipped upstairs. Then she remembered 
the sweater she was still wearing, and slipped it off quickly, 
paused to put on another shoe that lay in her way, flung 
her cloak about her and stole down again. 

She had almost a shy look on her face as she brought 
the sweater over to where Barry stood by the dining room 
table swallowing down hot coffee and talking to the minister 
about the baseball prospects. 

Both the minister and Greeves looked at her in sur¬ 
prise. Somehow, with the paint washed off, even in dirty 
streaks she looked more human, and less bold and bizarre. 

Barry looked up with one of his brilliant smiles that 
he gave rarely, and took the sweater. 

“ Tm afraid you were cold! ” said Athalie most un¬ 
expectedly to herself. It hadn’t occurred to her to think 
of anyone but herself until that instant. 

“ Oh, that’s all right, kid! ” he said setting down his 
coffee cup and struggling into his sweater with a couple 
of motions, “ glad I had it along. Hope you feel all right 
in the morning.” 

Athalie retired feeling for perhaps the first time in 


254 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


her life that she was forgiven and given another chance. 
Somehow all her escapades up to this time, with nurses, 
governesses, teachers, and parents, had ended in enmity and 
a bitter feeling of spite. She went upstairs slowly won¬ 
dering what it was about this boy that made her feel like 
a happy little child. She ought to hate him. To be plan¬ 
ning some way to get it back on him. He had baffled her 
and ruled her as no one had ever done before, and he 
was only a kid like herself, and yet she had a sort of 
awe for him, an interest in him, a pleasure in his smile. 
She took off her red tatters pondering this, forgetful 
entirely of her bridegroom that was to have been. 

While Barry was stowing away the sandwiches and 
cake and coffee that Anne Truesdale seemed always to be 
able to produce without a moment’s warning, Greeves and 
Bannard withdrew to the hall. The father looked worn 
and haggard. He cast an anxious eye up the stairs and 
said in a low voice: 

“ Bannard I can’t thank you enough for sticking by 
through this. It seems strange but this is getting me worse 
than anything that has ever come to me. I need some 
advice. I need some help. How on earth am I ever to 
teach that unruly child! ” 

“ You need God, Greeves! I mean it! Kneel down 
and pray. That will do you more good than any advice 
that anyone could possibly give you.” 

“ Don’t get on your hobby again tonight Bannard. I’m 
in no mood for trifling. I’ve got to give that girl some 
kind of a lesson—” 

“ She looked to me as if she had learned her lesson 
pretty thoroughly,” said Bannard. “ I wonder where Barry 
found her. I thought he must be out on one of his specials. 
That boy certainly is a wonder! ” 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


255 


“ Yes, I am deeply grateful. What are his circum¬ 
stances ? Can I reward him ? ” 

“ Give him your friendship. That’s all he would ever 
take. He’s proud as Lucifer, but he’s loving as they 
make ’em.” 

“ Yes, I liked him the first time I met him. I’d like 
to know more about where he found her.” 

“Well, perhaps she’ll tell you. I doubt if he ever 
will. He’s a man of few words, where it concerns any¬ 
thing he has done. But I wasn’t trifling, Greeves, I meant 
what I said. There is nothing in the wide universe would 
open up this situation and show you the right way like 
getting down on your knees and getting back to God, and 
when you get there that 1 tomorrow ’ I was telling you 
about will be about to dawn.” 

“Ready Barry? I’ll walk along with you. Good night 
Greeves. I’m glad your vigil is at an end! ” 

They went out the terrace door and walked silently 
down the garden, two dark shadows among the growing 
things. Even if Lizette Weldon had been wakeful she 
would not have noticed them for the hedge was tall and 
they kept close in its shadow. 

Silently the two, as those who understand one another, 
passed over the fence and through Aunt Katie’s little 
garden, around the side of the house to the front gate. 

“ Anything I need to know, Partner? ” asked Bannard 
affectionately. 

Barry considered. 

“ I guess not tonight, sir.” He looked up with a 
smile. 

“ Have to go far with that car? ” 

“ Quite a piece.” 


250 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


“ Your mother is down at the Flats with a sick child 
tonight.” 

“ Aw’right! I’ll be back before she is. G’night! ” 

Barry slid into the car noiselessly, and as quietly as a 
car can go that one backed out of the lane to the beachway, 
and sped away into the night. He did not immediately 
take to the city highway however. There was something 
he had to do first. About an hour later he turned into 
the highway a mile or so above Silver Sands and made 
high speed to the city. In his hip pocket under his sweater 
reposed a muddy little slipper. 

The minister had slipped into his door and extinguished 
the light at once going softly upstairs in the dark. From 
behind Aunt Katie’s door there came a question: 

“ Was it all right?” 

“ All right Aunt Katie. Your prayers brought us 
through! ” 

About half an hour later Lizette who had fallen asleep 
on watch woke up and scanned both her windows, but 
neither Aunt Katie’s nor the Silver mansion showed any 
signs of light, yet she had been sure she heard an auto¬ 
mobile somewhere in her dreams. For Anne Truesdale 
faithful even to a “ daring huzzy ” prepared a hot bath 
for Athalie, and a tray of good things for her to eat, but 
she had been careful to hang a black shawl behind the 
drawn shade of the window looking toward the 
Weldon-house. 

The eastern sky was paling into dawn as Barry drove 
into the outskirts of the city and began his search for an 
open telephone station. He found presently an obscure 
little hotel, and had no trouble in discovering Robert 
Farrell’s name. He purchased a sheet of paper and an 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 257 

envelope and standing by the desk wrote a brief and 
characteristic letter: 

“ Mr. Robert Farrell, 

Redwood Apartments, 

Dear sir:—This is to notify you that you are not 
to have any further communication with Miss Greeves. 
The police force of Silver county is onto you, and is watch¬ 
ing every move you make, and if the investigation of your 
past that is being made brings any further criminal develop¬ 
ments we will make Silver County too hot to hold you. 
If this warning of the police of Silver Sands is not obeyed, 
Mr. Greeves will stop at nothing to prosecute you to the 
limit. Signed, B. Link, member of police force, Silver 
Sands.” 

With this letter duly addressed and sealed Barry took 
his way to the Redwood Apartments and rang up the 
man in Farrell’s apartment. To him, when he finally 
appeared yawning, Barry handed over the letter and the 
car and touching his hat politely disappeared, running like 
a deer to the station as soon as he had passed the corner, 
and arriving just in time to catch the milk train for 
Silver Sands. 


17 


XXII 


“ The only possible condition under which you are 
free to remain in this town and in my house is that you 
hereafter conduct yourself as a lady in every way! ” 

This was the ultimatum which Patterson Greeves after 
a night of vigil flung out upon his subdued and waiting 
daughter sometime along in the middle of the morning 
when she chose to come down to a languid breakfast. 

Silver had gone early to the Flats with the minister 
and Anne Truesdale was out doing marketing. They 
had the house to themselves. The father girded up his 
soul and went to the task before him. It had to come 
sooner or later. 

Athalie regarded him composedly for a moment 
before responding: 

“ Well,” said she, “ with Lilia on the high seas, and 
my money mostly gone I suppose I’11 have to make a try. 
I won’t go to school. What is it you want me to do? 
Go to church and Sunday school ? ” 

Now nothing was farther from Patterson Greeves* 
intention than to attend divine service of any sort or to 
make his family do so, but in that instant it flashed across 
his consciousness that that was the very thing that would 
have to be done if Athalie was to remain in the town 
and live as a member of the old Silver family should, 
in good and regular standing. Athalie could not associate 
with the young people of the town and expect to be com¬ 
fortable among them unless she did as they did, unless 
she did as the traditions of the family laid down. For 
himself he would probably have ignored what people 
258 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


259 


thought and have shut himself in with his books and his 
few friends and let the town go hang. But here he was 
preaching the standard of his old family and insisting upon 
its being kept high, and in his heart not planning to do so 
himself. He saw the inconsistency at once, and knew also 
that the thing she had suggested was the very influence 
that would readjust her abnormal young soul, if anything 
could do it. If religion was good for anything it ought 
to be good for that. In fact, there was somewhere hid 
away in his own soul the belief not yet extinct that religion 
did do things to souls when it really got a chance! Also, 
there was Bannard. He had some sense if he was a 
minister. She wouldn’t likely get much nonsense hearing 
him. And there was Silver! Of course Silver would 
want to go to church. Somehow he shrank from letting 
Silver know how far he had strayed from the religion 
of her mother, and her mother’s people. All this passed 
through his mind in the lifting of an eye. He was accus¬ 
tomed to control his face and cover it with a mask among 
men. He scarcely seemed to hesitate as he replied: 

“ Yes. Certainly. Of course you will go to church 
and Sunday school.” 

“ Oh, heck! ” said Athalie, a kind of hunted look com¬ 
ing into her eyes as she flounced around and stared out 
of the window. 

Greeves watched her painfully trying to adjust his own 
thoughts to this unexpected turn. He would have to go 
to church himself probably to enforce this. He felt like re¬ 
echoing her exclamation. What was he letting himself 
in for? Well, if it got too strenuous he could always send 
her away to camp when he found the right place. Then 
too, he would have to be courteous to Bannard. He had 
been awfully decent last night, knowing just the thing 


260 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


to be done, and not making a great fuss about it as some 
would have done, and making every thing public. Yes, 
of course he would have to go to church occasionally. 
Tomorrow was the Sabbath. He would have to go then 
to start things right. Then after that perhaps he could 
manage to be away a good deal Sundays, run down to the 
shore or make a visit to New York or Boston—any excuse 
would do. He would have to go a good deal anyway to 
consult libraries. 

“ Well,” said Athalie as suddenly whirling back as 
she had turned away. “ What else ? I’m game.” 

Her fixed gaze was rather disconcerting. He couldn’t 
help admiring the way she took it. There was something 
rather interesting about her in spite of all her devilishness. 
Where did she get that? 

“ There are three things that I shall require,” he said 
following out the plan he had evolved during the night. 
Poor soul, he had gone such a little way in this matter 
of fatherhood and discipline. He thought it could all 
be enumerated under three heads. 

Athalie watched him attentively. 

“ Obedience—” 

Athalie winced. 

“ Who do I have to obey? Not that red-faced servant 
woman! Not that other girl! ” 

Her father faltered. 

“ Because I won't! That’s flat! ” 

“ They would come under the next head,” temporized 
Patterson Greeves, “which is courtesy.” 

“ Oh, you mean I’ve got to be polite! All right. I 
suppose I can. What next ? ” 

“ Modesty! ” finished the father with a sudden realiza- 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


261 


tion that his list was pitifully short and she was dismissing 
them all and making them shorter. 

“ Well, what do you mean by that? ” 

“ I mean that I do not like the way you dress nor 
behave. You constantly call attention to yourself, to your 
person. It is probably not your fault that you are some¬ 
what stout, although I have understood there are diets 
that will regulate that sort of thing, but it is your fault 
when you dress in loud and noticeable colors and strange 
styles, or when you expose your flesh to view.” 

Athalie’s brow drew down. 

She glanced down at her dashing little blouse of orange 
crochet over a flannel skirt of orange and black stripes. 
Her plump pink arms showed through the knitted mesh, 
and the brilliant neckerchief she was wearing jauntily 
across one shoulder revealed much fat neck. A flush of 
disappointment rolled up her carefully unpowdered cheek. 
She had really tried to look pleasing for that interview. 
According to her standard she looked nice. 

“ I’ve worn the only things I had,” she said sullenly. 
“ I’m sure I don’t know how to please you.” 

Something in the wistfulness of her tone appealed to 
him. He cast about how to answer her. 

“ Suppose you go up and spread out what you have 
"~and I’ll come and look at your things. If you haven’t got 
the proper clothes we’ll have to go and buy some.” 

A glint of interest shone in Athalie’s eyes. 

“ I’ll go up and spread them out,” she said eagerly, “ it 
won’t take me long. There’s really some quite spiffy ones.” 

He almost groaned aloud as she disappeared like a 
bright, saucy butterfly. How was he to make her under¬ 
stand that it was their very “ spiffiness ” that made 
the trouble. 


262 TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 

In a few minutes he heard her calling, and he goaded 
himself up the stairs trying to prepare to be very diplomatic 
and gentle and firm. 

Athalie stood by the door her face radiant and behind 
her on the bed lay shining masses of silks and satins and 
velvets in gaudy array and all around the room were 
hangers on which hung limp effigies of herself done in all 
colors of the rainbow, the vintage of Lilia’s cast off frocks, 
made over for her neglected daughter. 

Athalie led him around the room beginning with what 
she considered the sober ones, and going on to the more 
dressy affairs. He went from one to the other with grow¬ 
ing bewilderment and pain, and when he had finished he 
stood back in dismay and began at the beginning again. 
He could not find one thing that filled his idea of what 
a young girl should wear. Once he thought he had dis¬ 
covered it in a simple looking brown affair with a gleam 
of brilliant green which Athalie had hung behind the door 
as if she had forgotten it or did not want it inspected 
because it was too dull. He took the hanger down and 
began to examine it. 

“Now this,” he said with a tone of growing satisfac¬ 
tion, and picking up a corner of the long tunic that was 
bound in tailored fashion, “ this seems—why, what is 
this? Trousers?” 

“ Yes, those are the knickerbockers,” said Athalie, “ I 
used to like that a lot but I’m sort of tired of it. However, 
if you like it I’ll put it on. I thought maybe—but I’ll put 
it on! ” 

She seized the hanger and slipped into the bathroom, 
returning in a brief space with the garment on. Patterson 
Greeves drew a long breath. She seemed to be clothed 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


263 


properly for the first time. The lines were straight, the 
color was dark, her form did not appear so sensuous. 

“ Now that—” he began, “ step out from behind the 
bed and let me see.” 

Athalie stepped out and walked. 

“ Why, what is that? Is it torn? Is it ripped? Why 
how short it is! ” 

“ No, those are open all the way up to the waist. That 
is the knickerbockers underneath. Haven’t you been used 
to the knickerbocker suits ? They’re all the craze at school. 
I had one of the first that came out. I just made Lilia get 
it, or rather I bought it myself and sent the bill to her and 
told her I’d tell a friend of hers something she didn’t want 
told if she didn’t pay it—■” 

Athalie’s tongue was rattling on eagerly, but Athalie’s 
father was sick at heart. As she strode about the room, 
whirling in front of the long mirror on the old-fashioned 
bureau, her stout legs were revealed clad in green trousers 
which finished in a tailored cuff below the knee and fully 
eight inches above this brown tunic flopped and flared, mak¬ 
ing her a grotesque figure, neither man nor maid. A fash¬ 
ion that might have been tolerated or even fancied on a 
slender little child, but was revolting on a girl of Athalie’s 
age and build. 

“ Take it off,” ordered the discouraged parent. 
“ Haven’t you anything decent at all? ” 

Athalie stopped dismayed and retreated half frightened 
into the other room. When she came out again she was 
wearing the little yellow dress and she looked lonesome 
and unhappy. 

Her father wheeled about from the window where 
he had been looking unsgpngly into the garden—it was 
strange how the only relief from things sometimes is to 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


look out of the window and get a wider vision—and eyed 
her perplexedly. 

“ We’ll have to go to town and do some shopping. I 
think it would be best to take your sister along—” 

“ She’s not my sister! And I won’t go if you take 
her! I thought you understood that! ” 

“ That’s not obedience, Athalie! ” 

The girl looked down stormily. 

“ Well, then if you force her on me I won’t obey. I 
don’t see why you want her along. She can’t pick out 
my clothes! I wouldn’t wear a rag she selected. You 
ask her if she would like what I chose for her.” 

The father reflected that that was probably true. Silver 
would certainly not look right in any of Athalie’s clothes. 

“ Well, then we’ll take the housekeeper,” he temporized. 

“ That frumpy thing! ” said Athalie. 

“ Well, who would you suggest? ” He looked desper¬ 
ately at his daughter and wondered why a creature of so 
young an age should be able to perpetrate so much trouble 
and get away with it. 

Athalie dimpled into a charming smile. 

“ I don’t see why you and I couldn’t go just together. 
It’s you that’s to be suited, isn’t it? And me that’s to do 
the wearing? Well, then, what has anybody else to do 
with it. ” 

“I’m not at all certain that I—” 

“ Oh, if you don’t know what you want—•” began 
Athalie with a toss of her head. 

“ Very well,” said her father, with swift decision, 
“ get ready at once. I’ll phone for a car. Can you be 
ready in half an hour? ” he looked at his watch. 

“ Yes,” she said brightly, casting a selective eye around 
her wardrobe. 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


265 


“ But what will you wear? ” he asked uneasily looking 
around also trying to find something that would do. “I 
don’t see anything here that is suitable.” 

Athalie pouted. 

“ Perhaps we’d better wait and I’ll telephone for some¬ 
thing to be sent out on approval, a blue serge suit or 
something,” he suggested helplessly. 

Athalie darkened. 

“I’ve got an old tweed thing in the trunk. I hate it 
but maybe you’d like it.” 

“ Let me see it.” 

She pawed in her trunk a moment and fished out a 
brown tweed coat and skirt. He took it up and examined 
it, his face clearing. 

“ Now, that’s what I call a nice neat, sensible dress 
for a girl,” he said. “ Is it all whole? There aren’t any 
slits or anything in it? Well, put that on, and some kind 
of a hat that doesn’t look too fast, and dark stockings and 
gloves. And—Athalie, wash your face! Wash it I mean! ” 

Athalie waited until he had closed the door and then 
she looked her thought of him behind his back in a very 
forceful expression. Having thus unburdened her soul 
she set about making a hasty toilet and when she came down 
stairs seemed to him quite presentable in her trim brown 
coat and skirt. The skirt was more abbreviated both hori¬ 
zontally and perpendicularly than he would have desired, 
but it would have to do for the present, and she wore a 
small, neat hat of brown straw from which she had just 
extracted some kind of an ornament in feathers that 
resembled a burning bush. It was drawn down over her 
forehead till she looked quite demure, and her feet were 
quietly encased in brown stockings and tan oxfords with 
low heels and rubber soles. She wore gloves and her whole 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


aspect seemed to have changed. Looking on her now her 
father wondered perhaps if it might not be possible some¬ 
time to even—well—rather like her. 

That morning’s shopping was an experience Patterson 
Greeves will never be likely to forget. He felt as if he 
were leading a wild young coyote by a chain, which might 
at any moment give way in his hand and let chaos loose 
in the stores. The number of things that Athalie picked 
out and her father disapproved were too numerous to 
mention. Sometimes they found a saleswoman who sided 
with the girl and took it upon herself to advise the father, 
and then Greeves went to another store. Again they fell 
to the hands of a prim, sharp woman with a false front 
who called Athalie “ dearie ” and patronized her, and the 
girl simply refused to try on or look at a thing under 
her guidance. 

In his pocket Patterson Greeves carried a brief mem¬ 
orandum the result of a secret interview with Anne 
Truesdale, which he from time to time consulted anxiously 
as if it were a talisman that would somehow guide him 
through the mazes of this expedition. It read: 

“ Four or five stout gingham dresses for school. 

Two sprigged muslins for afternoons. 

A nice white dress for evening socials. 

A dark blue silk for best. 

Two serviceable blue serges made sailor style.” 

Athalie had two methods. One was to go into ecstacies 
over something she liked, talk about its simplicity, and its 
classic lines, and how sweet and quiet it was. The other 
was to walk off out of the department entirely and be found 
looking drearily out of a window when she saw her father’s 
eye on something that did not interest her. 

On the whole she worked things pretty well, and came 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


267 


off with four wash silks, which by the aid of the sales¬ 
woman she had persuaded her father were now taking the 
place of ginghams; several crepe de chines, a couple of 
handkerchief linens, and a one-piece serge that cost twice 
as much as any dress she had ever owned before. If she 
was going to have to be severe and plain, by all means let 
it be the severity of elegant simplicity. After a sumptuous 
repast at an irreproachable tea room at which she ordered 
everything on the menu that took her fancy from lobster 
salad to cafe frappe she carried her exhausted parent home 
triumphantly and spent the afternoon making little altera¬ 
tions in her purchases. He had selected them himself, 
hadn’t he ? Well, then he couldn’t possibly find fault with 
anything about them. He would never know what she 
had done to them. 

Life settled down quietly. Patterson Greeves got out 
some of his notes and began to put his papers away in the 
desk. Silver had sent word that she was spending the 
day at the Flats. There was nothing to hurt or annoy. 
He reflected that both Lizette Weldon and several of the 
Vandemeeters had been in evidence at their front windows 
or gates when he and Athalie had driven away and again 
when they returned. Surely Athalie’s escapade would 
be forgotten if all went on in the conventional manner. 
Surely he might relax a little now. 

From the region of the kitchen there floated from time 
to time spicy suggestive odors. 

And the next day was the Sabbath. 


XXIII 


Mary Truman called for Athalie Greeves to take her 
to Sunday school. 

She did not want to go. She had told all the girls 
at the school picnic the day before that she didn’t intend 
to do it. She had cried for two hours and begged both 
father and mother to let her off, but they had insisted, 
and so with her neat blue serge suit and her blue straw 
sailor, her hair tied with a fresh ribbon, and her hands 
and feet encased in simple girlish fittings, she reluctantly 
swung the Greeves’ gate open and slowly made her way 
up the path. 

It was early. The first bell had only begun to ring. 
Mrs. Truman had insisted that she must give the stranger 
plenty of time to get ready. She had also, unknown to her 
daughter, telephoned Mr. Greeves that Mary was coming. 

Patterson Greeves, having come down to break! ast 
in much better frame of mind than since he had returned 
to Silver Sands, had forgotten entirely , that it was the 
Sabbath day or that there was such a thing as Sabbath 
school to be dealt with. Indeed, left to himself he might 
have been persuaded to forget it altogether for this time, 
but when Mrs. Truman offered an escort he jumped at 
it eagerly, and Athalie heard herself promised as a new 
scholar in the class with “ that frumpy little Truman girl.” 

However, Athalie was going to 1 e a good sport. When 
her father turned from the telephone and informed her 
that she must get ready for Sunday school she looked up 
with just a flicker of a gasp and stared, but that was all. 
Quite like a lady she arose from the table and went to 


268 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


269 


her room. When she came down dressed in her brown 
tweed suit, gloves, hat, and shoes as she had dressed the 
day before for her trip to the city her father looked her 
over almost with approval and when he saw her go down 
the path beside Mary Truman he sighed with relief. Per¬ 
haps she was going to be amenable to reason after all. 

Mindful of her triple promise to her father Athalie 
was quite polite, but in a lofty way, like a lion condescend¬ 
ing to walk with a lamb. 

“ So kind of you to come for me,” she said haughtily, 
“ I never went to Sunday school before in my life. What 
do they do ? ” 

“ You —never went—to Sunday school!” Mary paused 
in horrified astonishment. “ Why! Where have you 
lived ? Didn’t they have any Sunday school ? ” 

“ Why, I really don’t know. I never enquired. Per¬ 
haps they had, but nobody said anything about it. I’m 
curious to see it! Is it as dull as day school ? ” 

“ Oh, day school isn’t dull! We have lovely times. Sil¬ 
ver Sands is said to have the best school in Silver County. 
We have the darlingest teachers! And debating society I 
And contests, and athletics! Oh, it’s great! I feel dread¬ 
fully when I’m sick and have to miss a day. I haven’t 
missed a day now in two years, not since I had the measles.” 

“ Dear me! ” said Athalie. “ I should think you’d 
be bored to death! Do all those girls you brought to see 
me go to Sunday school? ” 

“ Oh, yes, of course. Everybody goes to Sunday 
school in Silver Sands. Most of them go to our church. 
Only Emily Bragg, she’s a Methodist, but they have a 
nice Sunday school too, only not so large. I was allowed 
to go with her once when she was going to speak on 
Children’s Day. We have a lovely teacher. Her name’s 


270 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


Pristina Appleby. She lives right across the street from 
you. She tells us very interesting things about the pyra¬ 
mids and the tablets they’ve dug up and things like that 
you know. Sometimes she brings us pictures to help under¬ 
stand the lesson.” 

“Lesson? Do you have lessons? Mercy! I hate 
lessons.” 

“ Oh, you won’t hate this,” laughed Mary, “ she just 
talks. We call her Miss Prissie! ” 

“ Oh! And this Miss Pussy! Is she an old maid? ” 

“ Miss Prissie I said. No, oh no, she isn’t an old maid. 
Her aunts are that. She has three aunts and a grandmother 
and a great grandmother and they all live together in that 
brick house across the street from you.” 

“ Oh! I hadn’t noticed. Then she’s a young girl.” 

“ Well, not exactly young. She’s not as young as your 
sister. I think she's lovely. We girls are all crazy about her. 
I’m so sorry you couldn’t have come to the fudge party 
the other night. We had such fun. Your sister was 
wonderful! She started all the games—” 

Athalie’s face darkened but she kept her stiffly polite 
manner, a trifle more haughty perhaps. 

“Yes, it was a pity!” she drawled. “Is this your 
church ? What are they ringing that bell for ? ” 

“ Why for Sunday school.” 

“ Oh! I thought somebody might be dead! I’ve read 
of that! You never can tell what curious thing they may 
do in a strange place you know.” 

Mary started to giggle and then looked at her question- 
ingly and grew red instead. Was this rude girl trying 
to make fun of her again? 

“ Especially in the country,” added Athalie. 

Mary said no more. Other girls and boys were stand- 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


m 


ing around the entrance as they went up the path. Athalie 
stared at everyone as if she had come to a show and that 
was what was expected of her. Bannard came down the 
street from the other direction and lifted his hat gravely 
to Athalie. She dimpled and smiled. 

“So he goes to Sunday school too! ” she remarked 
complacently. 

“ Why, yes of course/’ said Mary somewhat shortly. 
“ He’s the minister. Why shouldn’t he come! ” She was 
getting tired of the publicity of escorting this strange girl. 
She wished Sunday school were well over. 

Athalie was much entertained all through Sunday 
school. She stared at everybody’s clothes, kept her eyes 
wide open during prayer watching the contortion of the 
superintendent’s lips as he prayed. The other girls, duly 
devout, stole curious glances at her between their fingers. 
Her conduct of the day before had been carefully dis¬ 
cussed at the dinner tables and a general taboo placed 
upon her as far as an associate for daughters was con¬ 
cerned. To find her in Sunday school was therefore a 
surprise. The more so as a rumor had been started by 
Pristina Appleby’s essay at the club that Patterson Greeves 
was one of the new thinkers and had left the faith of his 
fathers to wander in dangerous speculations. 

But when Sunday school was out there was Patterson 
Greeves coming up the walk with Silver by his side, her 
sweet face smiling to every one, her smile almost like a part 
of the sunshine, her eyes as blue as the dress she wore and 
the little hat with its black wing. 

Athalie stood by the door with Mary Truman and 
watched them approach, noted her father’s fine presence 
with pride, heard the whispered remarks about him, then 
heard: “ Isn’t she sweet! ” and saw that all eyes were 


272 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


directed toward Silver. The sullen fires came back to her 
eyes. She looked around like a hunted thing and for an 
instant thought of bolting straight through the graveyard. 
Then her father's grave glance was upon her pleasantly 
and her face lighted up. He was not displeased with 
her then. She experienced a sudden surprised pleasure 
in it. Fiercely did she desire to belong to someone, to 
have someone care for her, to be able to please. All her 
life she had met with impatience and curbing. This father 
she had come determined to win to herself or die in the 
attempt. Deeply had she longed for a home and parents 
like other girls and had not had them. Perhaps she had, 
down deep in her heart, the thought that maybe somehow 
she might draw hers together. All her young life she had 
showered upon her selfish mother a degree of devotion, 
one might almost say adoration such as few real mothers 
get, and it had only returned upon itself in bitterness. 
The mother had regarded her lightly, tolerantly, gaily, 
yet if that mother had asked of her any sacrifice, no matter 
how great, the fierce young soul would have given it, 
gladly, freely. So now Athalie regarded her father with 
eyes of pride and of possession. 

Another face just then picked itself out from the 
throng of churchgoers, a young face, strong and manly, 
vaguely familiar. He was standing under the willow 
tree near the gravestones, bare headed, cleanly shaven, neat 
and trim in a much brushed suit, talking to a group of other 
boys. Presently they sauntered over toward the steps 
nodding to the girls who came by, calling out a pleasant 
word. Mary Truman stepped down below Athalie 
and spoke: 

“‘Why, hello, Barry. Where were you Friday night? 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


273 


Didn’t Mr. Bannard give you my invitation to the 
fudge party ? ” 

Barry turned quickly and pleasantly. 

“ Sorry Mary, I didn’t get home till late. Had an 
errand that kept me. Hear you had a great time. Save 
some fudge for me ? ” 

Then he lifted his eyes and recognized Athalie. He 
did not speak. It was rather a lighting of the eyes, a 
pleasant understanding that gave her heart that warm glow 
and she knew him for her captor of the midnight ride. 
After that Athalie was satisfied to stay and see this thing 
called church through to the finish. 

Oh, she had been to church before of course. At school 
those things were compulsory. But there was something 
about this church, like a big family gathering of people who 
all liked each other and enjoyed being there that was new 
to the girl. She stared about and wondered at it. Funny 
old women in queer bonnets, coats that were antique of 
cut; a few of recognized culture and education, though 
that counted very little as yet with Athalie; one or two 
with stylish clothes. She watched the Vandemeeter tribe 
file into the pew, grandma, first, slowly with a cane, mother 
just behind, Henrietta helping grandma, Maria in the same 
black broadcloth coat and black felt hat with the coque 
feather band she had worn for the last seven years. Maria 
was never one to put on summer clothes until summer was 
really there. Harriet and Cordelia with pink velvet roses 
wreathed around their last year’s dyed straws. She eyed 
them curiously. Each a replica of the other in a different 
stage of life. What tiresome people. How did they endure 
life ? She noted grandma’s bent head, mother’s closed eyes, 
the squarely folded handkerchiefs, the little tremble of the 
feathered bonnet when Henrietta handed grandma the 

18 


274 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


hymn book. Everything was strange and unusual to 
Athalie. She wondered why such common people wanted 
to be f why they seemed to take an interest in being ? Why 
did her father stay in a place like this when there were cities 
where things were going on, wild, gay life for which 
she thirsted? 

She was surprised to see Barry sitting in the back row 
of the choir. How queer for a boy like that to be willing 
to waste his time this way! 

Suddenly Bannard’s voice arrested her attention. He 
was telling a story, though he seemed to have a small 
leather book open in his hand as if he were about to read. 
He painted a picture with his words. She forgot the 
sunny church with its bright carpet and unfashionable 
congregation. She was seeing a walled city in a strange 
land, under a blazing sky with hungry faces looking out 
from little slits of windows in towers and turrets, and an 
army camped around on every hand. They had been there 
days and days and had starved out the stronghold. The 
people were reduced to eating loathsome things. An ass’s 
head, something that would not be thought of as food at 
another time, sold for about forty dollars, coarse chick 
peas were selling at a prohibitive price. Even the king 
and his court were starving. 

The king was walking on the wall, visiting his sentries. 
You could see his face, lined with anxiety, as he shaded 
his eyes and looked out across the sea of enemies’ tents. 
There was no sign of discouragement on the part of that 
enemy. They had come to stay until the city surrendered. 
They knew it would not be long. They had spies who 
had discovered its state. They were well supplied with 
food themselves and had nothing to do but eat and drink 
and make merry until they had worn out the resources of 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


27 5 


the people and there was nothing left for them but to 
surrender. The king sighed and passed on, as he went 
someone reached out and caught his robe with claw like 
hands, a woman from the doorstep of one of the little 
hovels on the wall. There were deep hollows under her 
eyes and in her cheeks. She looked more like a skeleton 
than a woman. “ Help! ” she cried, “ help, my lord, 
O king! ” 

The king drew away impatiently. So many cried for 
help and what could he do. “ Curse you! ” he said im¬ 
patiently, “ with every barn floor bare and every wine press 
empty, what can I do ? ” and he turned as if to pass on. 
But the woman continued her strange weird cry, and began 
a terrible story. Another woman appeared crouching 
frightened against the doorway. 

“ This woman promised if I would kill my baby boy 
yesterday and cook and eat him that she would kill hers 
today, but we ate my son yesterday and now she has hid 
hers today. I pray you O king, speak to her. Make her 
give up her son that she has hid.” 

Athalie’s eyes were wide with horror. She had never 
heard a story like that. 

The speaker depicted the horror on the face of the 
king as he listened to the tale, and watched the faces of the 
hunger-crazed women, realized that he was powerless to 
aid, that things could only grow worse rather than better, 
that the Lord in whom he had put at least a little of his 
trust had apparently deserted him, and then he laid hold 
on his kingly robe and tore it. 

Like a company of children the listening congregation 
attended, not an eye looked dreamy, not a brain was plan¬ 
ning out tomorrow's work, nor calculating the sum of 
yesterday’s mistakes. The Bible lived and breathed before 


276 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


them as Bannard spoke. They saw that king reach down 
and tear his robe as he passed on, they were among those 
who looked beneath and saw the sackcloth next his skin, 
oriental symbol of humiliation, of repentance, of prayer. 
They caught a glimpse of King Jehoram’s past, his mother 
the wicked queen Jezebel, his father of whom it was 
written, “ there was none like unto Ahab, which did sell 
himself to work wickedness in the sight of the Lord.” 

One saw that Jehoram was not quite so bad as his 
father and mother. He put away the image of Baal which 
his father had set up for worship to please his mother, 
but he wrought evil in the sight of the Lord. 

The king on the wall in the torn robe, with the sack¬ 
cloth showing beneath suddenly turned and swore a terri¬ 
ble oath that he would have the head of God’s prophet 
that day, the prophet who had been promising day after 
day that God would deliver them from the enemy; and 
now they were come to the great extremity and God was 
not helping. Why should he wait for God any longer ? 

The king walked to his palace and sent a messenger 
to the little house where Elisha lived. One saw the 
soldier from the palace hurry along with sword in hand 
down the narrow streets of queer flat-topped oriental 
houses, and Elisha sitting quietly in his door talking to 
some of the old men, and suddenly lifting his eye to his 
servant and saying in a quiet voice: “ The king is send¬ 
ing a soldier to behead me. Shut the door and lock it. 
The king will be here presently. Keep the soldier out 
till he comes.” 

The hurrying feet, the hastily shut door, the alterca¬ 
tion. Athalie sat breathless with glowing eyes of wonder. 
The impudent air of the king as he came, the parley: 
“ Behold, this evil is of the Lord; why should I wait any 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 277 

longer for Him to help me?” and Elisha’s quiet voice 
answering: “ Hear ye the word of the Lord. The time 
is up! Tomorrow about this time shall a measure of 
fine white flour be sold at less than pre-war prices.” 

“ Ha! ” the laugh of the servant on whom the king 
leans, “ if God were opening windows in heaven just now 
this might be! ” 

The quiet rebuke: “You shall see it but not eat 
thereof.” 

Night drops quickly, suddenly in that eastern land 
Twilight on the white parched city where skulking shadows 
pass on the wall and huddled human beings sleep and for¬ 
get for a little while their sufferings. The king in his 
palace asleep. No faith whatever in what Elisha promised. 
Twilight outside the wall in the little leper village, four 
lepers waiting at the gate, starving, talking it over. Shall 
they throw themselves on the mercy of the enemy, and 
beg something to eat? “If they kill us we shall but die 
anyway!” The hesitant approach, peering like white 
ghosts into the first tent, the pause, the eager going for¬ 
ward. No one there! The table spread. They snatch the 
food and devour it, and move on to the next, and suddenly 
are struck with the silence throughout the great camp. 
The hurrying investigation, then the hastening back to 
the city to tell, the waking of the unbelieving king, the 
five men sent to verify the story, the garments strewn in 
the way as the enemy fled, the rejoicing, the crowding out 
of the city to spoil the tents of the enemy, crushing out the 
life of the astonished servant who had laughed the day 
before! The wonderful reason of the enemy’s flight, 
that the Lord had caused a sound of horses to be heard 
by them! 

Athalie looked around the church to see if anybody 


278 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


was really believing it. Where did they get a strange 
story like that? The Lord! The Lord! How strange 
that sounded as if the Lord was a real person! Did her 
father believe that? She glanced at him as he sat with 
stern listening attitude, his gloved hands on his knee. She 
could not tell whether he were astonished at it or not. She 
listened again. The minister was talking now about world 
problems. He said the world was waiting today as then 
for the Lord to deliver them from a state of siege into 
which their own sin and folly had placed them, and blaming 
God that He did not come. They were tired of wearing 
sackcloth and ready to do murder. When all the time 
God’s wonderful tomorrow was waiting, just over the 
way, waiting for them to reach the limit of their own 
possibilities that God might show His power and grace. 
He said that the troubles of the world would never be 
solved and peace never come until Christ came into human 
hearts, and that all these things pointed to a time close 
at hand when some tomorrow about this time Christ Him¬ 
self was coming back to relieve His own forever from a 
state of siege. 

Athalie never took her eyes from the face of the 
speaker during this closing talk. She had never heard 
anything like it in her life before. It made realities out 
of what had been vague mythical stories, like fairy tales, 
before. Was there really a Jesus Christ then? He died, 
didn’t He, long ago? On a cross? What did they mean, 
coming again f 

She was silent and thoughtful all that day. Her 
father looked at her relieved. She wandered around the 
house, played a few little jazzy tunes on the piano which 
scandalized the Vandemeeters and Lizette who both made 
it a point to listen intently for any sign of a hymn tune, 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


279 


then drifted away to her room and her fast disappearing 
stock of chocolates and literature. 

Silver had gone to the Mission school at the Flats. The 
house was silent all the afternoon, with a Sabbath stillness 
Athalie had never known before. Sabbath meant nothing 
to her but a gayer day than usual, the focus of the gaiety 
of the week. 

Mary Truman, still under parental pressure called for 
her to go to Christian Endeavor that evening, and because 
Athalie saw nothing else to do, and her father and Silver 
were talking in the library before the fire, she went. She 
wondered if the strange boy would be there. Barry. 
What a nice name! 

He was there. He passed her a hymn book and looked 
pleased when she came into the bright little chapel room 
where they met. He sang in a quartette, growling a nice 
low bass. She watched him wonderingly, remembering 
how he had held her like a vice when she tried to get 
the wheel away from him. Remembering how gently he 
had lifted her and carried her. 

It seemed a queer meeting. The girls and boys spoke, 
just like a frat. meeting at school, only they said queer 
things. They referred to the sermon of that morning 
as if they were altogether familiar with the story of that 
siege. They spoke of Mr. Bannard as if he were a 
brother and comrade. Mr. Bannard was there among 
them, just like one of them. It was rather interesting, 
only it was embarrassing when they prayed. She didn't 
know what to do with her eyes so she watched them all. 

That boy Barry gave a notice about a committee 
meeting after service. Two others jumped up and spoke 
about socials that were being planned. They all seemed 


280 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


so eager and friendly. Athalie felt lonely and outside 
everything. 

When they went in the church again there was Silver 
sitting with her father. Mary asked her politely to come 
in their seat and she went. She did not want to sit 
beside Silver again. 

Mr. Bannard spoke about the coming of Christ again. 
He made it plain that He was really coming, and that 
some people, good people presumably for Athalie didn’t 
understand that language about “ believers ” were to be 
taken away and the world would wonder where they had 
gone. Athalie looked over at Silver. She thought Silver 
would be one that would be taken away. Well, that 
would be good. She hated good people and she would 
be left with her father. It was reasonably sure a noted 
man of the world like her father wouldn’t be taken away 
from earth like that. He didn’t have that spirit-look 
that Silver wore as a garment. It frightened her a little 
this talk about the Son of God coming back to earthy 
She hoped on second thought that it wouldn’t come till 
she was old, very old and didn’t care about living any 
more. It stayed with her after she got home, and when 
she went to bed and thought of Lilia in a little boat on 
the great ocean she cried a few tears sorrowfully. Lilia 
was the only god she had ever had. 

On the whole she was rather docile about going to 
school the next morning when her father suggested that 
she enter high school and finish out the spring term. She 
remembered what Barry had said about athletics and 
resolved not to eat any more chocolates for a week after 
this last box was gone. 

So she polished her nails to a delicate point and betook 
herself languidly to school to see how she liked it. She 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


281 


was astonished to see how little impression she made on 
the wholesome atmosphere of high school The teacher, 
a placid faced elderly woman with a firm chin, said to be the 
finest school principal in the county, smiled at her pleasantly 
and put her in the front seat directly before the desk. 
None of the boys gave her a glance, save Barry who 
showed mere recognition. The girls she had met smiled 
politely and went on with study. Whenever she looked 
up she was met with that pleasant challenge of a smile. 
There was absolutely no opportunity to get away with 
anything unless one first crossed that friendly smile, and 
Athalie wasn’t just exactly ready to do that yet until 
she had tried things out. There had not been any too 
many smiles in her life. She took the book that was handed 
her to read until the principal should have time to examine 
her and place her in the classes where she fitted, and was 
surprised to find it was an interesting novel. The teacher 
explained it was the book the English class were reading 
for review and conversation that week. 

Her father glanced into the study-hall half an hour 
later, after an inspection of the building led by an old 
friend who was the Latin teacher, and saw her absorbed 
in the book. He went home with a sigh of relief, comforted. 

But that very night Athalie wrote eleven invitations 
to six boys and five girls for a house party that week end, 
and mailed them early in the morning before she went 
to school. But that no one in her family knew. 


XXIV 


The tramp had found work as a laborer in the glass 
factory through the efforts of some of the good Presby¬ 
terian women whose wood piles had been supplying his 
breakfasts and dinners for some time. He worked feebly 
and with great effort and managed to maintain his role of 
semi-elderly invalid who was doing his best. 

He was working with a gang of other men shovelling 
sand into a cart when Silver Greeves came by with a bas¬ 
ket of broth and oranges and a lovely dolly for the little 
Mary who was now on the high road to recovery 

The tramp paused in the monotony of his service. 
He put in regularly one shovelful to the other men’s 
two. He always paused longest for interruptions and rested 
his weary back. The other men paused also and watched 
the progress of the lithe girl as she stepped down the 
roughly cobbled path and entered the cottage. 

“ That’s that girl from the Silver family,” said one 
of the men. “ Take notice of her? She’s been cornin’ 
down to that wop’s house every day. She’s been takin’ 
care of the sick kid.” 

“ Well, they’d oughtta do things like that. They got 
aplenty ain’t they? Don’t we keep ’em in cash with our 
labor? They couldn’t sell this sand if we didn’t shovel 
it, could they? She’d make a pretty hand shovellin’ sand, 
now, wouldn’t she? How would she live if we didn’t 
shovel her sand fer her ? I ask you.” 

“ Oh, they got aplenty else ’thout sand anymore. They 
got stacks and stacks of money. I heard they got sompin 
like a million fer the railroad right of way. She’d oughtta 
282 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


283 


take notice of the poor folks. I guess that family wasn’t 
named Silver fer nothin’.” 

The tramp gazed steadily at the door where Silver 
had disappeared and began to turn around what he heard 
in his cunning old brain. He let his companions heave 
five shovelfuls before he started in again at a rapidly 
diminishing sand pile, and his face wore a thoughtful 
look. Whenever he stopped to rest he eyed the house 
where Silver had entered. When she finally came out, 
lingering on the doorstep to talk with the smiling dark-eyed 
mother he took another siesta and studied the scene care¬ 
fully, taking in details of dress and height and coloring. 
Then his cunning eyes dropped to his task again and lifted 
for an instant to meet hers only when Silver passed oppo¬ 
site to him, as she smiled and greeted them all in a 
friendly way. 

“ Some gurrul! ” remarked a short burly man with 
red curls and a brogue, “ the master must be proud o’her. 
I guess he’d not take all his millions for the likes of her! ” 

“ Yes, she’s a fine lady! But it’ll take a plenty millions 
to keep her in all she’ll want,” grouched the other man. 

“Well, what’s a lady! ” said the tramp as he lifted 
another shovelful of sand. 

Down by the bridge Silver met Bannard and lingered 
there to watch the little fishes darting in the stream. She 
had much to tell him of the condition of some of the 
families she had visited. Sam was bringing his wife over 
from Italy, and Carmen was having trouble getting his 
citizen’s papers. Something about his questionnaire during 
the war. He had not understood enough English to make 
out what they were asking him, and he couldn’t write it 
himself, so some absurd mistake had been made. Could 
he see the County Judge and straighten it out? 


284 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


Bannard finally turned and walked back with her 
through Sweetbriar lane, into Aunt Katie’s for a moment 
to get a taste of the honey cakes she was baking, and 
so on through the hedge into the sweet old Silver garden. 
They lingered talking beside the sun-dial, tracing the 
quaint figures on its face, watching the slow, sure march of 
the sun from point to point. 

There was powdered gold in the air and sunshine, 
powdered fire shimmering over the tulip bed. The birds 
sang with joyous abandon as though they would split 
their throats. Greeves looked out of his window from 
his work, and his heart was at rest. That was a nice 
fellow. A bit wrong in his head knowledge, and his 
beliefs, but all right in his heart and living. And after 
all if one could believe in the old legends they were a won¬ 
derful safeguard. Far be it from him to disturb such saintly 
faith He would be careful what he said about unbelief. 
It almost seemed as if what the minister had said had been 
true. Things had settled dowm into a pleasanter way. The 
siege was lifting, but of course God had nothing to do 
with it. It was merely the adjusting of all elements to 
environment. It was sound philosophy anyway, to be 
patient and wait for things to adjust themselves. Then 
he went back to his preface which he was writing with 
great care. 

“If the present advance of science—” How was it 
he had meant to phrase that sentence? 

And down in the garden the two had sauntered into 
the summer house and were telling each other about their 
early life. It is a beautiful stage of friendship when two 
who admire one another reach that point. It is the building 
of a foundation for something deeper and truer. 

Well for them that the garden was located behind the 
house, with tall hedges surrounding, and that neither the 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


285 


Weldons nor Vandemeeters could penetrate therein, and 
only the kindly eye of Aunt Katie knew where they were, 
or the whole town would have been agog. They found 
so much to talk about that the minister forgot to go back 
to the Flats until the lunch bell rang in the Silver house, 
and then he made his sudden apologies and departed hastily 
over the fence. Silver went in with flushed cheeks and 
bright eyes thinking how wonderfully life was opening 
out for her who had been but such a short time before 
bereft and alone. 

Athalie came home from school quite pleasant and 
tractable. She had an armful of books and she seemed 
interested in them. Her father looked the books over 
and talked with her a little about them, gave her a few 
hints how to concentrate in studying, and went away 
to his library again entirely satisfied that he was doing the 
father-part as well as could be expected. Perhaps after 
he got used to it it wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

Meantime Athalie up in her room was working with 
needle and thread and scissors to transform several of 
her new frocks against the coming of Friday evening, 
while her books lay in a heap on the floor not to be touched 
until the next morning, and her thoughts were wandering 
a woolgathering. 

About half a mile below the bridge at the lower end 
of Silver Sands, to the left of the road where it curves 
around to go to Frogtown there rises a little hill. On 
its top, set in a thick grove of maples, birches and oaks 
with plenty of undergrowth, there stands a little one- 
roomed hut. It had been built of field stones a long 
time ago, when the grove was a big woods of sugar maples, 
perhaps for a shelter at sugaring off time. There was 
a fireplace at one end, a little prison-like window and 


286 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


a sagging wooden door. The window was boarded up 
and the door had stood ajar for years. The boys of the 
town used to use it for a rendezvous but had long since 
deserted it for newer quarters below the bridge where 
some enterprising seniors in high school had built a camp 
among the pines. 

The tramp had sighted this empty dwelling, and after 
watching it for several days and sampling its hospitality 
at night, he took up his abode therein, repaired the door, 
unnoticeably, left the window boarded up, and built his 
meagre fires at night when no one would see the smoke. 
There was plenty of wood around for the rustling. 

The floor was the bare earth, and in one corner a pile 
of leaves and moss made a bed, with an old blanket he 
had taken from somebody’s clothes line down in the village. 
In a big packing box that he had found behind the cannery 
quite early one morning, he kept his frugal stores: eggs, 
butter, bread, tobacco, half a ham, and a big black bottle. 
The top of the box served as his table. Here he crept at 
evening when his shovelling was done, taking care to 
arrive by a circuitous route, and to close the door before 
lighting his bit of a candle. Here at evening he sat with 
his pipe and pondered many a scheme, or went over and 
over the various mistakes and failures of his life which 
had landed him in confinement within stone walls for a 
time, and searched how he might carry something through 
yet again. 

That same night he crept to his lair and sat on the 
sheltered side looking away toward the village thinking. 
Through its nest of trees he could see the white pillars of 
the Silver house standing as it did at the eminence of the 
street, lifting its head just a trifle above all the other 
houses. As the twilight deepened and darkness gave oppor¬ 
tunity for Sin to walk abroad unrecognized, he loitered 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


287 


down the hill and crept by unused paths into the town 
where he had a few patrons who kept their little odd jobs 
for him at night. They talked about him in their sewing 
circle and said he was a self-respecting man, and one had 
given him a shirt, and one some pairs of much darned 
socks and they talked about helping him to find a place 
to board where he could look after the furnace for his 
keep when winter came on. Drab he was as he walked 
along in the shadow side of the moonlit street, and drab 
he faded into space when he came to a high hedge. Care¬ 
fully he stole around the old Silver place, and felt out 
the garden paths, rubber tired he surrounded the spot 
and peered in cautiously at all the windows. He studied 
the lines of Patterson Greeves’ thoughtful face as he sat 
at his desk working on that preface, and judged it cannily 
with the eye of a specialist. He put his ugly mask to 
the very pane of glass beside Silver’s head as she sat 
reading in the big easy chair at the other end of the library. 
He cautiously searched the darkened drawing room with 
a pocket flash, and he took in the dining room, especially 
the silver on the sideboard while Anne and Molly were 
setting the table for breakfast. The kitchen was not so 
easy, but he managed it while Joe and Molly and Anne 
sat eating their dinner. 

“ I thought I saw a face at the window, Joe, go out 
and see if someone is looking for you,” said Anne in her 
calm voice, and Joe shoved back his chair noisily and 
went out, but came back presently and reported that Anne 
was “ seein’ things.” 

“ It must be the young huzzy upstairs is gettin’ on 
yer nerves, Anne.” 

“ The young lady’s all right the last two days,” said 
Anne complacently, Athalie’s church going and willing¬ 
ness to go to school had done much toward mollifying 


288 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


Anne. “ And I saw a face at the window. It was likely 
Jock Miller brought back that sickle you lent him. I’m 
not so old that I can’t tell a face at the window when I 
see it.” 

Back in the lilac bushes among the lilies-of-the-valley 
a drab shape huddled, listened, and presently shrunk away, 
puzzling. That wasn’t the young lady he saw pass the 
•fire house that day. Were there two? 

For the rest of that week life settled down into the 
grooves of what a well regulated family life should be 
and Patterson Greeves took heart of hope and plunged 
into his book. Athalie had been regular at school, late 
only once, and seemed to be giving actual attention to 
her studies. She professed to be deeply interested in edu¬ 
cation for the first time in her life, and took her books 
upstairs to her room immediately after dinner at night. 
Her father began to hope that perhaps she had inherited 
his love of study. Several times she came to him with 
some question about her lessons. Usually some unusual 
question. She was sharp as a needle. Would he ever 
learn to be proud of her? If she only weren’t so fat, so 
sort of fleshly. 

Friday morning as Athalie was about to start for 
school she stepped into the dining room where Anne was 
crumbing the table preparatory to taking off the breakfast 
cloth and said loftily: 

“ Oh, Truesdale! Have plenty of cake ready this 
afternoon. I’m bringing guests.” * 

“ There’s always plenty of cake in the house,” said 
Anne stiffly. She wasn’t sure she cared for being called 
Truesdale. Of course it was English, but she had an 
inkling that in this case it was intended for patronage. 

“ I mean— lots! ” said Athalie. “ There’ll be about 
twelve of us altogether.” 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


289 


“ There’s always cake enough in the house for twenty 
if need be! ” Anne froze. 

“ They’ll all be here for dinner I think,” added Athalie 
as she closed the door and ran down the steps, “ I told 
dad about it.” 

Now it happened that “ dad ” had gone to the city 
on the seven o’clock train to consult a book in the library. 

“ It’s strange he said nothing to me about it. He’s 
always that particular about making trouble,” said Anne 
as she reported the invasion to Molly. 

“ Aw, that’s all right, Anne,” said Molly cheerfully, 
“ you’d oughtta be glad she’s going to be friendly with 
the townspeople. We’ll just get up a real dinner Anne, 
and let her have a good time. The master’ll like it. He 
seems real satisfied with the way she’s took to school.” 

“ Yes,” agreed Anne grudgingly, “ but I’d a been 
better satisfied if the master had a spoke to me hisself. 
Howsomever! ” 

The house was always spick and span. Anne saw to 
it that there were flowers in the vases, and the best doilies 
as if for a company of ladies. 

“ Because them childer has eyes and tongues in their 
heads,” she explained to Molly who came in to consult 
her as to whether she should make hard sauce or boiled 
sauce for the bread pudding that was destined for lunch. 

Athalie telephoned at noon that she was not coming 
home to lunch. 

“ She’ll be taking it with some of the girls! ” she said 
happily, “ it’s nice to think of her gettin’ in and bein’ 
like other girls. Mebbe she’ll get rid of her queer hair 
and eyebrows some day. I think she might be passable 
lookin’ if she didn’t dress so queer! Now them dresses 
he bought her. They looked real simple, but when she 
gets um on they somehow look diffrunt. But I’m sorry 

19 


290 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


she didn’t come home, I wanted to ask her more about 
who’s coming? How’ll we know to set table? ” 

“ Oh, there’ll be time when she comes! Half past 
three is aplenty.” So they set about the delightful task 
of getting up a young dinner party again in the old house 
which had not happened since master Pat’s twenty-first 
birthday. 

It was nearing three o’clock when a taxi from the 
city drew up at the door causing great sensation over at 
the Vandemeeter’s. They had seen Mr. Greeves go away 
early in the morning. They could not figure out who 
this might be. 

A young woman got out and paid the driver, pre¬ 
ceding him up the walk to the house as he carried two 
armfuls of luggage. 

“ She’s all tails around her feet,” said grandma 
Vandemeeter, “ and I can see myself without any glasses 
that she’s got a painted face even if she has got a mosquito 
netting over her hat.” 

“ This is Marcella Mason,” announced the stranger 
as Anne opened the door. “ I suppose you’re expecting 
me. I’ll just have my bags carried up to my room at once. 
I’m frightfully dusty. Hot water please. I suppose you 
have plenty of it here in the country? If not please heat 
it at once. I’m accustomed to a hot bath.” 

A silver dollar skillfully manipulated slid into Anne’s 
astonished hand and out again to the floor quicker than 
it went in. She stepped back indignantly, with blazing 
cheeks and snapping eyes. 

“ Is that your money, Miss? You dropped it! ” she 
said crisply. 

“ Why, that’s your tip! ” laughed the girl, “ don’t you 
want it? ” 

“ Tip? ” repeated Anne with her chin aloft, “ tip? I 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


291 


don’t understand you. You’d best pick it up. Miss or it’ll 
get lost. You can step this way.” She led the way up the 
wide stair, thinking rapidly. It was not in the possibility 
that this upstart should occupy one of the best rooms. 
Anne led her down the back hall to a little bedroom off 
the sewing room where a seamstress sometimes stayed. 
Neat and trim it was with a single iron bed, a bit of a 
bureau and a stationary washstand. Silver house was 
not behind the times in the matter of conveniences. 

“You can put your things down on the chair,” said 
Anne indifferently. 

The stranger advanced and surveyed the room. 

“ Oh, I’m afraid this room won’t do for me! ” she 
looked around. “ No pier glass. And don’t you have 
private baths? What other rooms have you? I came 
first to make my choice. This seems to be a large house.” 

“ This is the only one, Miss. You can take it or leave it 
as you like. I’m busy just now. You’ll have to excuse me. 
Miss Athalie will be home from school in a short while.” 

“School! You don’t mean to tell me she goes to 
school! That’s rich! She swore she’d never enter a 
school room again! ” 

Anne gave her a withering glance and departed in 
high dudgeon. 

“ You should see the huzzy now! ” she told Molly. 
“ Rings on her fingers and jewels on her toes. And the 
impertinence of her! Offering me money like a porter 
in a hotel. Well, I wonder what the master’ll be say¬ 
ing now! ” 

“ The master just called up whilst you was upstairs. 
He says he may miss the first train and not to wait for 
him, to go right on and have dinner. I guess he thought 
he’d like to get out of the fuss of it.” 

“ Well, I shouldn’t wonder! I wish Miss Athalie was 


292 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


here. Miss Silver hasn’t got back from the Flats yet, 
has she? She’s a good girl. She would go see to that 
thing upstairs. Keep watch for her cornin’ and tell me. 
I’ll warn her afore she goes up the stair.” 

But Silver was helping an Italian woman to make a 
little dress for her baby and did not come home until five 
o’clock. Before that time many things had happened. 

Before Athalie arrived the three o’clock train had 
come in and a troop of young people, shouting, laughing, 
hooting at every person they passed, criticizing the houses, 
jeering at the stores, came pouring down the street. Their 
baggage followed in Hoskin’s express wagon, with two 
men on behind to help and observe. The girls were attired 
in most striking costumes, and lolled on the boys’ arms, 
pulled off each other’s hats and threw them into the street, 
and in general conducted themselves with great indiscre¬ 
tion. The villagers came to their front windows in aston¬ 
ishment and deep disapproval and one woman even 
telephoned for the police who happened to be away from 
his headquarters at that moment. 

They stormed up on the Silver front veranda like a 
hurricane, having enquired of everyone they met where 
“ Greeveses ” lived, and while they awaited the answer to 
their continuous and imperious knocking, two girls and a 
young man had a skirmish in the yard incidentally breaking 
off three of Joe’s most cherished hyacinth blooms. 

Then down the stairs with boisterous laughter tripped 
the young woman who had arrived in a taxi; and opened 
the door before the scandalized Anne could get farther 
than the pantry. 

“ Oh, boy! I guess I put one over on you this time! ” 
screamed the girl. 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


293 


The horde swarmed in, flinging caps and handbags in 
every direction. 

“ Here’s Marcy! I say that isn’t fair, Marcy! You 
got the best room! You always do.” 

“ Come on up and take your choice. There’s not so 
awful many as I thought there’d be. The old prune that 
showed me up gave me a sort of servant’s room, but I 
got rid of her and went around till I found what I wanted. 
I take the left hand front, and I’ve got my door locked 
so you needn’t try to get in. I’ll take Maebeth with me 
and nobody else. There’s plenty of room. I’ve been 
everywhere. You two girls better take that other front 
room. There’s somebody’s things in there, but you should 
worry. Possession is how many points ? I forget. Violet 
better go with Ath. Her things are in that second door. 
Say, boys, did you bring the booze? Plenty of it? Isn’t 
that great. We’ll have a real time! You boys better go 
up to the third story. There’s five big rooms up there! 
Come on Beth, let’s hurry and get dressed before Ath 
comes. She goes to school! Isn’t that the limit ? She must 
have some old grouch of a governor! Don’t say anything. 
His clothes must be in this closet and I’m going down to 
dinner in his dress suit —! ” 

“ Oh Marcy! Do you dare , Marcy? ” 

“ My soul!” said Anne Truesdale, “what’ll we do? 
Do you think maybe I better send for the minister? Oh, 
I wish you had told me master Pat was on the phone.” 

“ But you didn’t know it then.” 

“ Well, no, but I coulda told him about there being 
company.” 

“ Well, you didn’t. I guess that harum scar urn’ll be 
home pretty soon. There she comes now, running! I’d 
give her a piece of my mind, I certainly would! ” 


XXV 


But before Anne could get into the hall Athalie had 
stormed up the stairs and there ensued such greetings as 
made the old house sound like a vaudeville show behind 
the scenes. The girls in various stages of disarray opened 
doors to call to her, the boys issued from a cloud of cigar¬ 
ette smoke on the third floor by way of the old mahogany 
stair rail and came shooting into their midst amid howls 
and screams and pretended running to cover. Anne 
hurried up to do something about it and resembled an 
old hen running from the person who was trying to catch 
it while she clucked at her young to get out of the way 
but she made no impression whatever on the young people 
until suddenly a great stalwart youth discovered her in 
his way and stooping over said: 

“ Here, auntie, what are you doing here! ” and pick¬ 
ing her up like a child ran fleetly down the stairs with 
her in his arms, depositing her on the console in the hall 
and vanishing up again in three strides. 

Anne, when she recovered her breath crept fearsomely 
into the pantry white and spent, her dignity drooping like 
a broken feather, and while she stood panting, her hand 
on her heart, her back against the swing door, a gentle 
hand pushed it, and Silver’s voice said: 

“ It’s only me, Anne. What is the matter upstairs.” 

“ It’s a ’ouse party!” sobbed Anne, and buried her 
face in Silver’s neck. “ They’ve took the master’s room, 
and Miss Lavinia’s. I don’t know what the master’ll say 
when he comes. And your things! They maul every¬ 
thing they lay their hands on, Miss Silver. Oh, I oughtta 
have prevented this! I oughtta! I oughtta! I’m no 

294 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


29 5 


housekeeper at all to let this come behind his back. I’m 
getting old! I’m no good any more—” 

“ There, there, Anne, don’t feel so badly. There isn’t 
any harm done. They are only a parcel of kids out having 
a good time, and it’s gone to their heads. Don’t worry. 
Father won’t blame you. It’s Athalie, I suppose. Let’s 
try to see what we can do to make everything move off 
quietly. How long are they going to stay? Just for 
dinner ? ” 

“ I don’t know. I don’t know! She said a ’ouse party, 
that first one that come. How long does that last? x\s 
long as the ’ouse stays together I’m thinking, and that’ll 
not be long if they carry on as they have been goin’. 
They’ve slid down my nice polished stair rails, and there’ll 
he scratches on everything. And I’ve kept it all so nice 
all the years! Oh dear, oh dear! ” 

“ Never mind, Anne, it won’t be half so bad as it 
seems. Cheer up and get dinner ready. Are you going 
to try to have tea? ” 

“ Deary knows! Miss Athalie ordered cake made be¬ 
fore she left this morning. And me athinkin’ she was that 
good a girl to please her father an’ invite the neighbors’ 
children home from school to have a good time an’ make 
’em forget how she treated ’em Saturday afternoon! ” 

“ Well, never mind. I’ll go upstairs and see if I can’t 
stop that noise.” 

Silver went, but her arrival proved no more than if 
she had been a fly on the wall. The girls and boys were 
having a scuffle in the hall, and one girl’s dress was half 
pulled off of her. They did not even glance at Silver as 
she hurried by them to take refuge in her room and think 
what she ought to do. But two other girls were in there 
attired in lacy lingerie and one was smoking a cigarette. 


296 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


“ I beg your pardon,” she said pleasantly, “ I think 
someone has made a mistake. This room is occupied. If 
you will let me help you gather up your things I will show 
you to another room.” 

Silver did this, not because she was so disturbed at 
having her room taken as because Anne had felt so strongly 
about Miss Lavinia’s sacred chamber being desecrated. 

The girls simply stared. 

“ Who are you ? ” asked the girl who was powdering 
her face at the glass. 

“ I am Miss Greeves. Athalie’s sister. You must be 
her school friends.” 

“ Oh, I know who you are. You’re that baby that 
was given away. Your name isn’t Greeves at all. It’s 
Jarvis. Ath told us all about you. You needn’t bother about 
us, she put us here and we’d rather stay. You can take 
your own things out if you want to.” The girl turned 
back to the mirror with an air of having dismissed her. 
Silver reflected for an instant. What chance had she 
to maintain her rights against such insolence ? She would 
frustrate her desire of quieting the company and getting 
control of things if she was not a perfect lady. She was 
amazed that girls could say such things. There must 
be a whole school of them, bred in the same atmosphere. 

The color had fluttered into her face at the insulting 
words, but her sense of humor came to her assistance 
and as once before she had foiled insolence by her silvery 
laugh, so now she let it forth again, until the visiting 
girls turned and stared. They even grew a little red. They 
had intended to make her angry, and lo she laughed! 

With a quick turn Silver went out of the room and 
closed the door. 

“ Boys! ” she said placing a firm hand on the arm 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 297 

of the scuffling gentlemen nearest her, “ I know where 
there’s some awfully good cake. If you’ll follow me and 
be perfectly quiet about it I’ll get it for you! ” 

Instantly every boy of the six was surrounding her 
and clamoring with all his might, even attempting to lift 
her off her feet and bear her down the stairs. 

But there was something about Silver when she chose 
to be so that awed every boy in the vicinity. Her spirit 
face suddenly could become grave and stern, with a power 
of command that arrested the attention and demanded 
respect. 

“No, you’ve got to be perfectly quiet!” she said 
smilingly, “ the spell won’t work unless you do! No 
quiet, no cake! ” 

Athalie had forgotten when she summoned all these 
gorgeous young hoodlums to dissipate her gloom, and in¬ 
formed them well about her unbeloved sister, that Silver 
was a girl and that a boy will “ fall for anything ” some¬ 
times, as she said with a shrug that very evening. To the 
amazement of the other girls the boys became tame at once 
and Silver led them all off quietly down the stairs and to 
the drawing room where she rang the bell and said in 
low tone: 

“ Anne, dear, would you bring that cake now? ” 

The “ Anne dear ” got it. Anne brought the cake in 
bountiful supply, and Silver improving the brief and 
shining hour got all their names and made quite a little 
ceremony learning them so she would remember. 

The boys were quite pleased with her, and she held them 
there with talk about things boys like. Dogs and athletics, 
and national games. She had seen some big ones. She 
talked familiarly about some of the fraternities they longed 
to be bid to join, she spoke of college, and with just that 


298 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


rare flattery of smile and comraderie that touches a boy 
of seventeen and brings him to her feet, she sat on a 
low divan and chatted with them bringing burst after burst 
of gruff laughter, and winning them thoroughly as her 
friends. 

In the midst of an exciting recital of how a famous 
baseball nine got ahead of an opposing team that was 
employing unfair means to win the game, they all became 
aware of a hostile presence standing on the stairs. 

Athalie had come down in gorgeous array in a brief 
frock of gold tissue strapped over the shoulders and down 
the skirt in floating panels with peacock feathers. Around 
her forehead was bound a frontlet of green and blue 
sequins, and the gold tissue of which her stockings were 
composed was so exceedingly sheer as to give the effect 
of bare skin above the tiny jeweled gold slippers. Nobody 
would have bought such a rig for a young girl, but Lilia 
had been regal in it once upon a time, and the long pendu¬ 
lum earrings that dangled from the ears of her daughter 
and gave her such an Egyptian-princess effect had been es¬ 
pecially designed in jewels to match the costume for some 
great occasion. It might be possible that Lilia on the 
high seas knew nothing of the whereabouts of some of 
her most valued possessions. Athalie had helped her¬ 
self as she chose before her departure. 

But Athalie’s face was marked with disdain, jealousy, 
hate in startling lines. Silver arose quickly with a smile 
that faded as she saw the girl’s fixed look as if she were 
not there at all. Athalie was determined to ignore 
her among these her friends. How could she put up any 
kind of a front against that? And yet she must for her 
father’s sake, and keep things within bounds if possible 
until his return. It occurred to her that she might tele¬ 
phone Bannard and ask him to dinner. He would help 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


299 


her and know what to do, but supposing anything unfore¬ 
seen should occur, anything out of the conventional order, 
that should get abroad, it might not be well that the minister 
should be known to have been there. She had been brought 
up to think of those things. She had not been a minister’s 
granddaughter for nothing. Therefore she shut her firm 
young lips and determined to fight it out alone. 

She was wearing a crepe de chine dress of soft gray 
the right tint to bring out the pink in her cheeks, and the 
gold in her hair and lashes. It was simple of line and 
girded with a sash of itself heavily fringed and knotted 
at one side hanging a little below the deep hem of her 
skirt. She wore no ornaments and the elbow sleeves and 
round neck were without decoration. It was scarcely a 
dinner gown for a formal affair, yet she could not have 
changed if she wished since the invasion of her room, and 
she would not if she could. There were more important 
affairs on hand. 

Her sister’s attitude plainly dismissed her, but she 
rose and deliberately turned her conversation to one of 
the boys nearest her, ignoring the look, and finally Athalie 
spoke, as one speaks to an inferior: 

“ You don’t need to eat with us Alice Jarvis. It will 
make an uneven number. We have just men enough to 
go round.” 

“ Oh, that’s all right,” said Silver with a careless smile, 
“ father’ll be here pretty soon you know,” and went on 
talking to the admiring boy, although her heart was beat¬ 
ing wildly and she wished herself far away from this 
scene of dissension and frivolity. 

“ Oh, very well. Suit yourself! ” said Athalie with 
her haughtiest voice, and began to devote herself to the 
entire group, and attract them all from Silver. 

Silver slipped out of the room and went back upstairs. 


300 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


If she could keep the bunches of girls and boys apart till 
dinner was ready it might help. She went from room to 
room offering help. Had they all the towels they needed ? 
Could she help them with their dresses, or play ladies' maid 
in any way? Would they like ice water? Her insistent, 
pleasant serviceableness met with no response except 
silence. They whispered behind her back and exchanged 
glances. She saw that the way ahead was to be most un¬ 
pleasant, but she went steadily on ignoring the meaning 
of their attitude. She was the pleasant elder sister wait¬ 
ing on her younger sister’s guests. 

But she had committed what was to them an unpar¬ 
donable sin. She had taken their devoted admirers away 
from them and interested them herself. That could never 
be forgiven. 

Silver was very tired when at last the scene changed 
to the dinner table. She had placed herself at the head 
and was there as they came into the room, acting the part 
of hostess. Athalie stopped and looked furiously at her, 
but finally decided to get her revenge some other way and 
leaving the other end seat unoccupied proceeded to seat 
her guests to suit her own purposes. 

The chairs were all filled but one. 

“ Marcy! Where are you ? You sit at the corner next 
dad’s seat. Hurry. I’m starved.” 

Marcella Mason who had just tripped down stairs and 
was entering from the hall paused a moment lifting up a 
monacle on a long silk cord. 

“ Good evening, gents and women! 99 she saluted ele¬ 
gantly, “ so glad you all could come! ” 

Every eye turned toward the doorway and then a 
shout arose gradually growing into a roar. 

“ Marcy! Marcy! Look at Marcy! ” 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


301 


For Marcella Mason was attired in Patterson Greeves’ 
full dress suit, broad white shirt front, patent leather shoes 
and all, and looked the very personification of impudence 
and daring. 

Silver and Anne Truesdale had agreed before dinner 
was served that whatever happened they would keep their 
composure and not look shocked nor horrified. Poor Anne 
Truesdale scuttled hurriedly into the pantry. This was 
too much for her. Silver struggled with her irritation 
and mastered a grave little smile. It was rude of course, 
impudent, but only a prank after all. It was not for her 
to deal with a thing like this. Her father would be here 
pretty soon. Oh, that he might arrive at once! 

From the start the hilarity was uproarious. Several 
times bits of bread went whizzing back and forth across 
the board that had for years seen gathered around it grave 
and dignified and honored men and women. Anne trem¬ 
bled for the delicate long stemmed glasses in which the 
delicious fruit nectar was served. 

The dinner progressed through a rich cream soup, 
roast chicken, with vegetables, home-made ice cream with 
crushed strawberries, and great plates of delectable cake. 

The little cups of black coffee were being served when 
Athalie reached under her chair and brought forth a lac¬ 
quered box which she passed around. Cigarettes! Strange 
Silver had not thought that might happen! And the guests 
were all taking them, girls too, and lighting them. Little 
curls of smoke rose delicately in the stately dining room, 
and six little flappers pursed their painted lips and blew 
six more wreaths of smoke into the air. 

Silver took her coffee cup and toyed with it thought¬ 
fully. What would her father say to this ? She was not 
quite sure whether the time had come for her to take a 


302 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


stand or not. But when at a signal from Athalie one of 
the boys arose and stepping out of the room brought back 
two tall bottles of dark liquid, then she knew her time 
had come. He had pulled out the cork and was filling an 
empty glass by one of the girl’s plates. The fumes of the 
liquor arose hotly to her sensitive nostrils. What chance 
had she against so many ? Her face was white and stern 
like a spirit as she rose from her chair and faced them. 
“ Stop! ” she commanded to the astonished boy who held 
the bottle, “ Joe, will you remove these bottles at once? 
And Anne, will you kindly take that tray and gather up 
the cigarettes and throw them out? My father does not 
allow such things to go on in his house nor around his 
table! ” she said addressing the company in a clear ring¬ 
ing voice. “If you want to smoke and drink you must 
go elsewhere! ” 

Then Athalie arose suddenly with her glass of water 
in her hand and flung its contents at her sister. 

“ Shut up! ” she said roughly. “ It’s none of your 
business what we do. This is my party and I’m the 
daughter in this house ? ” 

“Athalie! What does all this mean? ” 

Patterson Greeves was standing in the doorway his 
hat still on his head, his hands still cluttered with packages 
of books as he had come in, his face stern with anger. 


XXVI 


The entire company turned in startled surprise and 
Anne and Joe scuttled furtively over to stand by him. They 
had been plainly frightened by a situation that they knew 
they could not control. 

“Oh, dad, is that you? I didn’t hear you come in. 
I’m glad you’ve arrived. It was naughty of you to be late 
the first night of my house party,” broke forth Athalie non¬ 
chalantly. “ Come and let me introduce you to my guests .” 1 

Patterson Greeves made no move to go forward. He 
handed his packages to the attendant Joe, and took off his. 
hat and gloves, still standing where he had first appeared* 
still looking the company over, person by person, his eyes 
growing sterner, his mouth more displeased. 

“ I do not understand,” he said coming forward en¬ 
quiringly, giving a searching glance into each impudent 
countenance, guest by guest. 

“ Let me have that bottle please! ” He took the big 
bottle from the unresisting hand of the once arrogant youth 
and lifted it near to his nose. 

“ Where did you get this liquor may I ask ? I’m afraid 
somebody has been breaking the laws of the land? I 
shall have to put you all under arrest until we investigate. 
Joe, will you kindly call up the chief of police? ” The 
entire company of would-be revellers arose in consterna¬ 
tion and looked to right and left for a place of exit, but 
Anne Truesdale, her cheeks flaming an angry crimson, 
her eyes like two sword points barred the way of the pantry, 
and the angry householder and his ancient servitor stood 
in the wide doorway leading to the hall. They began 

303 


304 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


to steal furtively behind one another and sidle toward the 
pantry fancying Anne less redoubtable than their inhos¬ 
pitable host. 

“Why dad! I think you’re horrid!” broke forth 
Athalie, her lips trembling. “ Why, dad! ” 

“Be still Athalie! You may go to your room! You 
have broken all three of your promises. I have nothing 
more to say to you at present. You know what the con¬ 
sequence was to be.” 

“ But dad—” 

“ Leave the room! ” 

And Athalie actually left it. 

The moment was awful. Even Silver felt sorry for 
them. 

“ Now, ladies and gentlemen, while we are waiting 
for the officer let me get your names and addresses,” said 
Patterson Greeves his class room tone upon him, as he 
brought out pencil and note book. “ Your name sir ? ” He 
turned to the first white-faced boy, the one who had held 
the bottle as he entered. 

The boy lifted a face from which the fun had fled 
and tried to brazen it out. 

“ Oh, cert., my name’s Brett Hanwood. Hamilton 
Prep pitcher you know.” 

Straight around the table he went writing down care¬ 
fully the addresses 1 , asking a searching question now and 
again. When he reached Marcella Mason he eyed her 
curiously for an instant, felt of the sleeve of her coat, a 
flicker of amusement passing over his otherwise grave 
face and said: 

“ And this—ah—gentleman? ” 

Marcella winced. 

“ This completes the list I think.” 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


305 


Patterson Greeves lifted his pencil and counted, “ four 
ladies and six—” his eye was on Marcella, “ men! ” “ The 
ladies of course we will not hold accountable. And now as 
it is not convenient for me to entertain guests tonight they 
will be returned to their homes or their schools as the case 
may be. The men—” again he glanced at Marcella, “ will 
await the officer’s verdict. Doubtless they will be held till 
the trial, or possibly let out on bail if they can furnish 
sufficient. The state is laying stress on this matter of pro¬ 
hibition just now and—!” 

“ Oh! ” gasped Marcella and collapsed in sobs. 

“ Now,” said Greeves, “ if you four young ladies will 
just go into the library I will call up your school and 
arrange for your return.” 

“ Oh—h-h-h! ” murmured the girls in a panic. 

Just then the officer was brought in by Joe, and Greeves 
explained to him in a low tone. Then he turned back to 
his frightened victims. “ You four girls may come into the 
library now.” 

The girls huddled in a mass and followed him. The 
sound of hasty feet scuttling after and Marcella arrived 
red and teary. 

“ I—I—I’m a girl too! ” 

“ Oh,” said Greeves surveying her through his glasses, 
“curious specimen I must say. Man and girl! Well, 
well! Which school do you attend? ” 

Marcella bore the sarcasm meekly and tried to hide 
her borrowed plumage behind the other girls. They made 
a curious group in their wild young flapper frocks with 
their plump, bare shoulders shivering in the shadows of 
the big old room while they waited for Patterson Greeves 
to get long distance. They glanced mutely into one 

20 


306 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


another’s eyes and thought of the school records already 
against them. 

“ Is this Briardale school for girls ? Is this the princi¬ 
pal? Let me speak to the principal please I have four 
young ladies here in my house who claim to belong to 
your school. They have been attempting to have a .hooch 
party during my absence. Can you tell me where they are 
supposed to be tonight? Shall I return them to you? 
Their names are—” 

He consulted his paper and read off the names. The 
girls stood and shivered as if he were striking them. 

“ I beg your pardon. Did you say Miss Mason was 
at home at the bedside of her sick mother? Yes? And 
this Violet? Her sister is being married? Oh! I see! 
His eyes dwelt mercilessly on the trembling Violet. Hav¬ 
ing her eyes examined ? I see. And the other one ? Oh, 
she was taken sick and was sent home ? I see. Then you 
would prefer that I return these young ladies to their 
various homes—” 

“ Oh, no, no! ” broke in Marcella, “ my father would 
half kill me! I’d rather go back to school.” 

“ Mine would take my next month’s allowance away 
and it’s spent already,” wept Violet. Then hushed to hear 
what was being said on the telephone. 

“ You say this Violet lives in our neighboring city? 
And Miss Mason in a suburb ? Where? Oh, Hazelbrook. 
Yes, I know it quite well. I’m not sure but her father is 
an old friend of mine. Walter Mason? That’s the one. 
Very well, then. I quite agree with you that these two 
should go to their homes. I will personally escort them 
there at once. The other two you would prefer to have 
return to the school tonight? Just how far is that from 
the Junction? I see. No, there is no train out of here 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


307 


until ten o’clock. That would miss connection. I think 
it would be better to get an automobile. Yes, I have a 
reliable man and his wife, old trusted servants. I can 
send them in their care. Oh, that’s all right. I’m only 
glad to get it all so easily arranged. They will be there 
tonight. It may be late. I may be delayed in finding a 
car, but they will arrive, don’t worry. Thank you! 
Good night! ” 

The girls were trembling and furious, but looking in 
his determined face they saw they had no way of escape. 
Especially did Marcella quail as she looked down at her 
borrowed garments and thought of her father’s face when 
he should hear the report of his old friend. 

Patterson Greeves hung up the receiver, rang for Anne 
Truesdale, and said: 

“ Now, young ladies, you will go up stairs in charge 
of Mrs. Truesdale and find your belongings. We shall 
be ready to start in twenty minutes.” 

He herded them to the stairs, and went into the dining 
room to consult with the chief of police who had the 
bottle of liquor in his hand and was asking keen questions 
with eyes that were used to reading human countenances 
and penetrating human masks. 

After a brief consultation between the two men, the 
uncomfortable boys were called into the library and sub¬ 
jected to a telephone conversation much like that which 
the girls had passed through, except that it was decided 
by the headmaster of the school that the boys should be 
returned in a body under police escort, and that 
their fathers should be at once summoned from their 
various homes. The boys looked even more hunted than 
the girls had done. They perhaps had more reason to fear 
both parental and scholastic discipline. 


308 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


The boys were marched out of the house at once 
with hastily packed suit cases and sober looks on their 
faces. A grocery truck was requisitioned, the boys piled 
in, and six men, two of them regular police aides, the 
other four pressed into service from the fire house with 
hastily improvised uniforms, climbed in after them, a 
man to a boy. There was no escape. 

The guards hugely enjoyed the occasion. They were 
getting a night's excitement and a long ride free. It 
would be something to talk about at the fire house for 
many a day. Uri Weldon had been the first one to volun¬ 
teer. He had no time even to telephone to Lizette before 
leaving. But then Lizette was not one to worry about him. 

In a quarter of an hour an automobile arrived and 
two unhappy maidens with handkerchiefs to their eyes 
stole out and crept into the back seat. Molly in a flannel 
petticoat and an extra sweater under her long winter coat, 
climbed fearfully in between them, and Joe took the front 
seat beside the driver. They moved off hurriedly through 
the night and presently Patterson Greeves and two silent, 
angry, frightened girls emerged from the house and 
walked down the street to the ten o'clock train for the city. 

“ Well, they’re all getting away early! ” sighed mother 
Vandemeeter. “ Now we can go to bed in peace. I was 
afraid they were going to have a dance and that would 
have been so out of place in the old Silver house. I 
just couldn’t have gone to sleep for thinking.” 

“ I don’t know as they could have gone much later! ” 
said grandma, getting stiffly up from her padded rocking 
chair and tottering toward her downstairs bedroom door. 
“ This is the last train, isn’t it? ” 

Said Pristina up at her top bedroom window: 

“ Now! I wonder which one he is taking to the train!” 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


309 


Silver and Anne Truesdale busied themselves in putting 
the house to rights and gathering up the debris of the brief 
onslaught of the enemy. 

“ Them old stemmed fruit cups was one of Miss 
Lavinia’s best prized set/’ Anne mourned. “To think one 
shoulda got broke tonight fer them little fools. I almost 
just used the old sauce dishes and then I thought the 
master might not like it! ” 

“ Never mind, Anne, what difference does a glass or 
two less make ? They’re gone. They might have broken 
more if they had stayed longer. It looked to me as if 
they were out to break more than fruit glasses.” 

“ Yes! ” said Anne. “ My soul! So that’s that! ” 

Five hours later, Patterson Greeves, dismissing the car 
that had brought him back from the city, walked up from 
the post office corner where he had got out, and let him¬ 
self silently into the house. Anne, released from her vigil, 
turned over and murmured drowsily to herself again: 

“ So that’s that! ” 

In the wee small hours of the morning, with the east 
paling into pink, the only two who had got any enjoyment 
out of the affair, Molly and Joe on their way home from 
their long pilgrimage, sitting in the back seat holding hands, 
and never saying a word, were having a second honey¬ 
moon. Their first automobile ride! An all night affair. 
They were sore and stiff with the long ride, next day. 
But what mattered it? They had something to remem¬ 
ber to their dying day. They might have other rides, 
doubtless would when Patterson Greeves got time from 
parenting to buy a car of his own, but never would any 
be like that first one, where the moonlight lay like thin 
sheets of silver over the springtime world. 


XXVII 


Sometimes a storm will settle the atmosphere, for a 
time, and it seemed as though Patterson Greeves’ summary 
dismissal of the house party had really subdued Athalie 
and made life bearable, and even almost pleasant at times 
in Silver house. 

There had been a stormy scene the next morning 
between Athalie and her father, but his brief experience 
in dealing with the young hoodlums the night before had 
seemed to give him confidence. He laid down the law in 
no uncertain manner to the young woman, who went 
through various stages of rebellion, to argument, then 
pleading and finally surrender. 

“ But I told you about that house party when I first 
arrived and you never said a word. You had no right to 
come in and raise a row afterwards,” had been her opening 
sentence of the interview, spoken with stormy eyes. 

She left the library with downcast countenance and a 
promise to apologize to Silver for her insolence of the 
night before, a condition of her further remaining in 
the house. 

“ Although I hate her just as much as ever and always 
shall! ” she added as she was about to close the door 
behind her. 

Her father thought it as well to let this sentiment go 
unanswered, and Athalie went up to Silver’s door, walked 
in without knocking and announced: 

“ My father sent me to apologize.” Having said it 
she slammed the door after her and departed, leaving 
Silver no opportunity to reply. 

Thus matters had settled into a semblance of amity 

310 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


311 


between them. The conversation at the table consisted 
in animated talk between Silver and her father, and abso¬ 
lute silence on the part of Athalie whenever her sister 
was present. The two girls walked their separate ways 
as much as if they were in separate spheres. Silver made 
one or two unsuccessful attempts to bridge over this chasm 
between them and finally settled down to forget it and 
be happy. 

Silver was living a rich and beautiful life, entering 
into the church work of the new community with zest 
and rare tact, already beloved by everyone, and spoken 
of often as being like her great aunt Lavinia. 

The minister was a frequent visitor at the house, going 
often on hikes and fishing trips with Greeves, and spending 
long hours in discussions on political, scientific, and on 
rare occasions, religious subjects; and often Silver was a 
third member of the party on these occasions. But the 
minister was a busy man and did not make his visits to 
Silver house too noticeable. It was fortunate for him that 
Aunt Katie’s back fence joined the Silver garden, and 
that the high hedge made passing possible without calling 
the attention of the neighbors, for Silver Sands was very 
jealous of their minister, and would never let him pay more 
attention to one family or individual without an equal 
amount somewhere else. Much of his friendship with 
Silver and her father was carried on in the evening, or 
morning when they had taken a tramp to the woods and 
come on the minister, also sometimes when there was no 
school, with the addition of Blink and his dog. 

Athalie had begun to take a real if rather puzzled inter¬ 
est in high school. At first she had attempted to become 
a leader, had even offered to furnish cigarettes and teach 
the girls to smoke, telling them they were far behind the 


312 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


times, but this resulted in an instant aloofness on the 
part of the girls of the better class. Emily Bragg being 
the only one who really accepted the offer and attached 
herself to Athalie like a leech. 

This was no part of Athalie’s plan. She retired from 
the field as leader and studied the situation for a few 
days. She began slowly to perceive that she would never 
be accepted nor welcomed as long as she lifted her own 
standards. She must accept the standards of Silver Sands 
or count herself as an outsider forever. 

Experimentally she made an attack on the boys, and 
found to her amazement that they too had standards. 
They might not be exactly the same as their sisters’, and 
there were some few among them who were ready sur¬ 
reptitiously to meet her half way and laugh with her, yet 
on the whole, she was losing rather than gaining in in¬ 
fluence, because for some unaccountable reason even the 
boys seemed to feel that she was unclassing herself. She sat 
down to ponder and decided that it was the old-fashioned 
town and that it was hopeless. Whereupon she brushed 
her hair a long time one day and began to curl the ends 
under and teach it to be “ put up.” She ceased even the 
surreptitious application of cosmetics applied on the way 
to school since her father’s distinct command had put an 
end to a careful make up before her own mirror. Her 
eyebrows began to grow in their legitimate place, with a 
strange likeness to Patterson Greeves’ and altogether she 
took on a more wholesome look in every way. 

Saturday mornings, at Silver’s suggestion, Patterson 
Greeves made it a point to be at home and to take Athalie 
to the country club for a round of golf. Even when she 
grew more intimate with her school mates and found some 
of her amusement in their Saturday picnics and little round 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


313 


of simple parties she never failed to accept his invitations 
for golf with alacrity. At such times there were flashes 
of something like real affection in her eyes, although he 
was usually too preoccupied to notice her. Indeed he 
would often have forgotten the engagement if Silver had 
not reminded him. 

Greeves had sought to induce Athalie to eat more whole¬ 
some food. He had hunted out a diet menu and urged it 
upon her, and in some degree she had acquiesced, though* 
he found her often with surreptitious boxes of candy, ot 
taking more cake at tea than the law allowed. It was not 
until Barry again wielded his influence that she really got 
at it and began to show a loss in weight. 

It was one Saturday morning that she had at last 
decided to try her father on the subject of knickers. She 
came down nonchalantly arrayed in them, and announced 
herself ready for the country club. Her father looked up 
from a page he was correcting with an annoyed frown 
upon his brow. He had forgotten that it was Saturday 
and was exceedingly anxious to finish the theme he was 
at work upon. He took her in, knickers and all, and laid 
down his papers with a stern look on his face. 

“ You’ll have to go by yourself if you’re going to 
wear those things! ” he said sharply. “ It’s strange you 
don’t know what a figure you cut in them. You’re too 
stout for any such rig! ” 

Athalie cut to the heart as she always was when her 
figure was criticized, turned with a shrug and a flip and 
an “ oh, very well! ” and flung out of the room. 

Her father settled back to his writing again, thinking 
that probably she had gone to change, but as she did not 
return he became absorbed once more and forgot all 
about it. 


314 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


Athalie meantime, had stamped out of the front door, 
down the street, and was making her way swiftly to the 
old log in the woods, the only refuge she knew outside 
the house where she would probably meet no one and would 
be free to cry her heart out and wonder what had become 
of Lilia. She had not had word from Lilia since they 
parted. 

She was sitting on the log weeping with long quivering 
sobs when suddenly she felt a hand upon her shoulder and 
looking up she saw that Barry was sitting beside her. 

“ What’s the matter kid, has anything happened? Any¬ 
one been treating you mean? ” 

She lifted eyes that were brimming with tears, and 
there was something childish and almost sweet about her 
helpless young despair. 

“ You poor kid,” he said again, “ what’s the matter? ” 

He fished a moment in all his pockets, then brought 
out from the breast pocket of his brown flannel shirt a 
neatly folded clean handkerchief. 

“ I thought I had a blotter,” he remarked, and moving 
up gently proceeded to wipe the tears from her eyes. 

In a moment he had her smiling through her tears 
with his bright remarks. 

“ Oh, there’s nothing much the matter,” said the girl 
relapsing into her despondency. “ I guess I’m only mad. 
Dad called me fat, and I hate it! He said he wouldn’t go 
with me in my knickers. He said I looked awful! ” 

Barry surveyed the garments in question. 

“ Does make you look sort of wide,” he admitted. 
“ Must be a lot easier to walk in than skirts though. I 
like ’em. Why don’t you get thinner, kid? It’s easy. I 
can tell you what to eat. We tried it one year when we 
wanted to run. Listen. I’ll write it down for you.” 

“ I hate spinach! ” remarked Athalie coldly. 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


315 


“ Oh, well, that doesn’t cut any ice kid! When you get 
skinny you’ll be glad. Try a month and get weighed and 
see what a difference it makes.” 

They talked for sometime and Athalie finally agreed 
to try it. Then they drifted into more personal talk and 
Barry said he wished she’d come and see his mother 
sometime. 

Athalie told him about her mother being off in Europe 
somewhere. She spoke drearily and the boy read much 
between the lines that she did not dream she was telling. 
He was quick to read the heart-hunger and yearning in 
her voice. There was much that was comforting in his 
cheery tone and the way he talked of common things. 
Athalie soon sat up and began to smile. Somehow the 
world looked brighter and life more possible even without 
chocolates. Barry said again he wished she would come 
and see his mother, and this time she said she would, and 
almost thought perhaps she meant it. It would be inter¬ 
esting to see what kind of a mother Barry had. 

Then suddenly the boy stood up quite sharply as if he 
had but just thought about it. 

“ But I oughtn’t to let you stay here,” he said. “ Your 
father might not like it. Why don’t you go home and 
put on the togs he likes. It won’t take you long. Wait 
till you get skinny and then wear these again.” 

“ They won’t fit me,” giggled Athalie. She was grow¬ 
ing quite light hearted. 

“ Come on over this way. I’ll show you a short cut 
home, and you won’t need to pass the fire house. There’s 
always a lot of crows there waiting to pick the flesh off 
your bones.” 

“ Maybe that would be quicker than dieting,” laughed 
Athalie brightly. 

“ You bet it would! ” said Barry, “ we won’t try that 


316 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


way this time. They’d make remarks if an angel flew 
by. Now come on down by the creek. It’s pretty there. 
Have you ever seen the rapids? Not very rapid, but it 
takes some strength to get a canoe up ’em. Some day we’ll 
get your sister and take a canoe jaunt.” 

But at that Athalie’s brow darkened and her chin 
went up. “ I don’t think she’d care to go,” she said, stiffly. 
“ She’s all taken up with doing things down in that 
Frogtown place.” 

“ Oh, wouldn’t she? ” Barry’s voice was disappointed. 
Athalie looked at him jealously. The sun seemed to have 
grown gray. Her loneliness had settled down anew. 

Barry was tactful for one so young. He saw that for 
some reason she did not want the sister. He turned the 
subject immediately to the day and the beauties about them. 

“ There’s a squirrel up in that tree that throws nuts 
down on me when I’m fishing sometimes,” he said. “ Do 
you like to fish? Why don’t you come along with your 
father? He and the minister often come up here. Your 
sister was along last time.” 

Ah! It was the sister! Athalie stiffened perceptibly. 

“ There he goes now, look! ” 

Athalie looked up while the boy talked, pointing out 
the squirrel harbor, telling how the squirrels stored their 
nuts, how they often ran up the tree with a mouthful of 
leaves to stuff in their harbor for a bed. 

“ See that branch of scarlet leaves up there! ” exclaimed 
the boy suddenly. “It’s early for them to turn red, but 
aren’t they peachy ? Shall I get them for you ? ” 

He was off up the tree in no time, nimble as a squirrel 
himself up, up, and up, till the girl watching felt dizzy 
for him, then out on a hazardous limb, and whipping his 
knife from his pocket. Presently down came the splendid 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


317 


branch, fluttering like thousands of scarlet blossoms, and 
fell at her feet. 

She stooped and picked it up wonderingly. It was 
almost the first time in her life she had gathered trophies 
from the woods, the first time any boy had presented her 
with anything so glorious and so wild. 

Barry was down again in a trice as if it had been 
nothing to climb like that, and was walking beside her 
telling her about the scarlet maples in the fall. Then all 
at once he turned and pointed. 

“ Now, you go across that meadow. When you get to 
the corner of the board fence turn to the right next the pas¬ 
ture and go straight ahead. You’ll find your house just 
ahead of you, and nobody will get a chance to see who you 
are before you are at home. I won’t go with you. It will 
be better not. Those Vandemeeters have eyes all over 
the house. Here! Do you want this junk? ” 

Athalie with her arms full of the gorgeous leaves made 
her way slowly across the sod of the pasture, and around 
the comer of the fence thinking over all that had happened, 
wondering why the boy didn’t come all the way with her, 
why he minded those old Vandemeeters, getting a thought 
of his reasons into her soul, comparing them with all 
her father had said, resolving to try again, and saying 
over as she entered her own gate. “ Spinach! Spinach! 
How I hate it! ” 

The spring deepened into summer and school had 
closed. Athalie felt lost. Her father was immersed in 
his book and had little time for golf. Mary Truman and 
her mother and brother had gone away to the mountains 
for a month, several of the other girls were visiting rela¬ 
tives in the country or at the seashore, or taking little 
trips. She had to stay around the house and garden. 


318 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


Always there was Silver everywhere in the way. She did 
not get any nearer to Silver. 

Barry came one day and took Silver away in the 
minister’s car to see a sick child two miles out of town. 
The minister had sent for her to come and bring some 
broth. They all came home together with a sheaf of 
golden rod and got out with much laughter and chatter. 
Athalie from the upper window watched them. There 
was a look in Bannard’s eyes as he helped Silver from 
the car that made her suddenly feel all alone in the world. 
Barry too! He came in after them carrying flowers. 
Silver had a heap of velvet moss in her hands dotted with 
scarlet berries. She was carrying it carefully The minis¬ 
ter put out his hand to catch a falling spray of the vine 
whereon the berries grew. Barry was close, with deep 
admiration in his face. He answered something Silver 
said and flashed his beautiful smile. Silver on the step 
above him broke a tiny spray of golden rod from the armful 
he had just handed her and stooping fastened it in his 
buttonhole. She could not hear the byplay of words that 
went with the act, she could only see the flush of pleasure 
on Barry’s face, the tender smile on Bannard’s, Silver’s 
look of utter joy and content. A pang of jealousy like to 
none she had ever felt before shot through her undisciplined 
heart. Her face was almost distorted with hate, and the 
red hot tears went coursing down her face so that she 
could not see Barry and the minister as they went back 
to the car. They had not asked for her. They had not 
either of them suggested that she go along. If Barry had 
done so when he came for Silver she would have gone. 
This once she would have gone, if just to keep Silver from 
riding in the front seat with Barry. But Barry had not 
asked it. Barry had not cared about anything except just 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


319 


to make her safe for her father’s sake, and to make her get 
thin, so her father would be pleased. Nobody cared for 
her! 

Her young lonely soul raged fiercely within, going 
over and over the doleful situation, until she scarcely knew* 
what she was doing, and suddenly a gentle hand touched 
her on the shoulder. 

“ Athalie, dear! You are crying! Is there anything 
I can do to help you? ” 

It was Silver in her white dress with her arms full of 
golden rod, come softly up the stairs on her rubber shod 
feet, and finding Athalie still at the hall window. 

Athalie turned in a fury of anger to be caught this 
way, and shook off the gentle hand. 

“ Don’t you dare to touch me! ” she hissed. “ I hate 
you!’’ 

“ Athalie!” 

“ Yes, Athalie! ” mocked the angry girl. “ You mealy- 
mouthed hypocrite! You liar! You thief! That’s it! 
You are a thief! ” 

“ Athalie, what has got into you?” asked Silver in 
dismay. “ What on earth can you mean? What have I 
done to annoy you ? ” 

Athalie had not been in such a fury since the night she 
spoiled the painting. She was simply blind with rage. 

“ Done! done! ” she screamed, “ it isn’t enough that 
you stole my father away. Stole him! Stole him! You 
had no right to him! He gave you away, and you had 
your home, and you had people that loved you! You had 
a grandfather and grandmother. I never had any grand¬ 
father or grandmother or anybody. My mother never 
loved me! ” Her tone was growing higher and more 
excited. The pent up anguish of the weeks was breaking 


320 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


forth in a flood. Silver lifted up a hand and tried to 
make her listen, but she rushed on in a torrent of words. 

“ She went away and left me to come here alone. She 
hasn’t written to me. She doesn’t love me. And I came 
here to find a father. I would have made him love me. 
Yes, I could, if you hadn’t poked your nose in and got 
ahead of me. You had no right. He had given you up. 
You thought just because you had that old Silver name—” 

“ Athalie!” said Silver compassionately, but Athalie 
was beyond hearing. 

“ Don’t speak to me. I hate you! ” she raved on. “ It 
wasn’t enough that you stole my father, and the house, 
and are trying to get the money and Mr. Bannard, but 
you have to steal my only friend! ” 

Her head went down on the window frame and she 
sobbed aloud. 

“ What do you mean, Athalie ? I haven’t stolen any 
friend away from you! ” said Silver in a puzzled indignant 
voice. 

“ Yes, you have. You’ve stolen Barry. He was nice 
to me. He brought me back when I was going to run 
away and get married l ” 

“Athalie!” 

“ Oh, you needn’t Athalie me! I guess I could have 
done it if I wanted to, and now I wish I had. I would 
have got out of this old hole anyway. Isn’t Mr. Bannard 
enough for you? Why can’t you let Barry alone? You 
pretend to be so loving and all, calling me dear, and all 
that mush, and yet you spoil every nice time I try to have. 
It was you spoiled my house party! You can’t deny that! 
And you’re at the bottom of my having to wear frumpy 
old-fashioned clothes. If you hadn’t come here dressed 
like a mouse my father wouldn’t have known the differ- 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


321 


ence. He just wants me to dress like you, and I won’t! 
So there! But I won’t stand your making eyes at every¬ 
body that likes me either. Look how you did when I had 
the house party! Carried all the boys off downstairs and 
flirted with them. Got everyone of them crazy about you. 
Oh, but the girls were furious about that.” 

Under the torrent of words which she could not stay 
Silver suddenly collapsed into a chair and dropped her face 
into her hands. 

“ Oh, yes! That makes you ashamed doesn’t it? You 
don’t like it put like that. Well, why can’t you marry 
somebody and get away ? I’ve been waiting and waiting for 
you and Mr. Bannard to get things fixed up so you would 
get out of the house and let me have a real home for once 
in my life.” 

Silver lifted a white face and listened sternly. 

“ Athalie! Stop! You mustn’t say such things. They 
are disgraceful. The neighbors will hear! ” 

“ I don’t care if they do! I hope they will! ” 

“ Athalie, if you will stop I will go away! ” 

“ Well, go, go! Why don’t you go then? You don’t 
mean it at all, you know you don’t. You intend to stay 
right here and spoil my life. I came here to try and get 
my father to marry my mother over again. She didn’t 
know it, but I’ve always wanted to do that. I’ve always 
wanted a home like other girls and a real father and 
mother! And then when I got here I found you! What 
good do you suppose it would do me to get my father to 
see my mother again while you were here ? She wouldn’t 
come here with you! She would hate you too, worse than 
I do. She would smile and do something terrible to you. 
That’s Lilia! But she would never come here with you 
here! Oh I shall never have a real home nor anybody that 
21 


322 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


loves me! ” She suddenly broke away from the window 
with a wild sob and darted toward the door of her own 
room. 

Silver turned putting out her arms to try and stop her. 

“ Athalie! Let me speak! I will go! I did not under¬ 
stand before.” 

But Athalie broke away fiercely. 

“ Well, go then! ” she shouted and slammed her door 
so that it reverberated through the house like thunder. 

Down in the kitchen Anne Truesdale and Molly stopped 
working and looked at one another anxiously. 

“ It’s Miss Athalie got one of her tantrums again! ” 
said Molly in an awed whisper. 

“ Well, the master’s coming home early tonight, praise 
be! ” said Anne, and tiptoed to the door to listen. But 
all was still up stairs. 

Silver was in her room with the door shut, kneeling 
beside her bed. 


XXVIII 


The tramp was not working that afternoon. He was 
recovering from a three days’ vacation he had taken in 
the city following the weekly pay day. He sat in the door 
a long time looking down toward the village and hating 
the world. He always took it out in hating the world 
when he was out of condition. He had a settled convic¬ 
tion that the world owed him a living. 

He looked as usual toward the Silver house with jealous 
eyes and began to calculate as he had often done before, 
how many millions they must have and what he could 
do if he had only a small portion of their wealth. And as 
before he began to work at a plan that had for a long 
time been maturing in his brain. He had worked it out 
link by link till he had all the details perfect up to a 
certain point. There he always had to stop. He never 
could quite get beyond that missing link. He always 
thought if he could just think a little harder it would come 
to him, that missing link, but as yet it had not come. 

And now he felt sick and sore from the three days’ 
debauch and the fire was out and there wasn’t a bit of 
food in his lair, neither was there wood to cook any food 
if he had any. 

He stirred his stiffened limbs and got himself to his 
feet shivering from sheer revolt against life. He knew 
that the afternoon was waning and that he must go soon 
to get wood or there would be no way to get supper, and 
supper he must have if he was to go to work in the 
morning. And to work he must go if he were to live 
longer, because his last cent was spent and bacon cost 

323 


324 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


money. They were not trusting tramps for bacon and 
tea in Silver Sands. 

So down the mountain he trudged, gathering wood 
slowly in little heaps by the way to be gathered up on 
his return trip. He must go trim that hedge of Truman’s 
and that would bring him enough for sugar and butter 
and all that he needed that night. Then on his return 
he would gather up the wood and have a little comfort 
out of life. Strange that with such a life he could still 
gather comfort from it. And Athalie Greeves in the fine 
Silver house wept because there was nothing left for her 
in life! 

It was ten minutes to five when he returned with his 
sugar and bacon and cheese. He hadn’t cut the hedge 
very well, but Mrs. Truman had been having a missionary 
meeting and hadn’t come out to see. She had sent the 
money out to him before he had quite finished and he 
lost no time in getting down to the store. His inner man 
required immediate refreshment. 

So he sat down in a sheltered spot not far from the 
road to eat a snack to stay him before he should gather 
up his wood. And suddenly his slow jaws lagged and 
moved slower, and his little eyes peered cunningly between 
the bushes, and his ears pricked up and listened, for down 
the road in the distance he saw the missing link in the 
well forged chain of his plans, approaching, and with 
eager caution and much peering he stowed away his bun¬ 
dles under the leaves and moved down to a more conven¬ 
ient station nearer the road where he could watch and be 
ready for the right moment. 

Silver had risen from her knees with a face in which 
sorrow and purpose were having their way. She went 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


325 


straight to her desk and drawing pen and paper toward 
her began to write rapidly. 

“ Dear Athalie:— 

“ I have been praying ever since I came that you 
and I might learn to love one another and be real sisters. 
I have always wanted a sister. But I see that I was mis¬ 
taken and that cannot be. So I am going away at once 
to show you that I really wanted to love you. I haven’t 
wanted to hurt you in any way, nor to steal father or 
anybody or anything away from you. You said a good 
many things in your excitement that hurt me, but perhaps 
you won’t remember them when you get calmer. I want 
you to know that I forgive you, and want you to be happy. 
As you say, I have had a happy home and you haven’t. 
Besides I am the older and ought to go if one of us must, 
so it is all right. Only if I go, Athalie, please make father 
happy. He is lonely too. And I shall always pray that 
God will give you joy. 

Sincerely, Silver.” 

She folded it and wrote “ Athalie” across the back 
then drew more paper toward her and began again. This 
one was harder to write. It began: 

“ Dear Father:—■ 

“ Something has happened since you went to the city 
this morning that has made me know that it is not right 
for me to stay with you any longer. Not now, anyway. 
You know how sorry I am about it, but I feel this is the 
only thing to do, so I am going to do it quickly before you 
return. That will be easier for us both. I have not time 
to tell you all it has meant to be with you, to know I have 
a father, and to be sure I have your love. I shall be rich 
in that knowledge always now wherever I am, but I feel 
that Athalie needs you more than I do, and that you never 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


can be everything to each other while I stay. You will 
see it this way too after a little and know that I did right. 
Perhaps some day it will be right for me to come back, 
and then I shall return with joy. Now I am going away 
and I am not going to tell you where just yet for I am, 
not quite sure of my plans, but as soon as I am located 
I will send for my trunk which I will leave packed and 
ready, and then perhaps you will write and tell me you 
forgive me for going away without seeing you. I just 
felt that I could not quite bear the gooy-bye, precious, 
father! I love you. Don’t feel bad. Love Athalie. 

Silver-Alice.” 

Silver paused a moment to wipe away the tears that 
would gather in her eyes as she wrote the words that 
meant so much to her, then she began another note. 

“ My dear Mr. Bannard:— 

“ I am writing in great haste and dismay to let you 
know that I cannot fulfill my promise to go with you to 
the orchestra concert in the city tomorrow because I find 
that I must suddenly go away. It is a deep disappoint¬ 
ment to me for I had looked forward to the pleasure, 
eagerly. I cannot tell you what pleasure I have found in 
our work among the little children on the Flats, nor how 
disappointed I am that I shall not be able to carry out 
our plans for this winter. I am not sure how long I shall' 
have to stay. It may be quite a while. It is hard for 
me to have to go, and to go thus suddenly without bidding 
my new friends good-bye, but I know I am right in going j 
at once. 

I thank you for what your friendship and your sermons 
have meant to me while I was here, and I hope that some 
day I may have the pleasure of seeing you again. 

Very Sincerely, Silver Greeves.” 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


327 


This letter she sealed, addressed and stamped and put 
in her pocket. Then she arose and quickly folded her gar¬ 
ments from the closet, laying them in her trunk, opened 
drawers and boxes and stowed everything away with 
expedition. There was not very much for she had not 
brought a great deal when she came. In her little suit¬ 
case she put the few things of immediate necessity, locking 
her trunk, put on her hat, and a long silk wrap over her 
simple dark china silk frock and taking her suitcase slipped 
across the hall with her letters. Her father’s she laid on 
his chiffonier where he would be sure to see it as soon as 
he came in, and Athalie’s she slipped softly under her 
door. It was all still in the hall when she went down. She 
longed to speak to Anne and Molly before she left but 
knew she might upset all her plans if she did, so she went 
swiftly out the door. 

“ Well, now, where’s she going? ” announced grandma 
from her window, “a suitcase in her hand too! And 
this time of day! ” 

“ Maybe she’s taking her suit down to the cleaners,” 
suggested Pristina. 

“ They would send for it if she phoned,” said Harriet. 

“ Well, she’s pretty independent. She doesn’t take 
any rich folks airs on herself,” said Cornelia. “ I wonder 
why they never go together. They’re not so far apart 
in age.” 

When Silver reached the station she found that the 
next train to the city did not stop at Silver Sands, being 
an express, its only stop was at the Junction two miles 
below. 

Looking at her watch she found that there was plenty of 
time to walk it. She knew the way well for she had driven 
there several times with Mr. Bannard. She mailed her 
letter to Bannard at the station and took the back street 


328 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


for several blocks to avoid the centre of the town as she 
did not care to be noticed in this sudden flight. 

When she came to the last cross street she turned into 
the main road again and crossed the bridge. She hoped with 
all her heart that Bannard would not happen to be out in his 
car and come across her. She felt she could not bear that. 
But if he did she would just have to tell him how things 
were. She somehow felt sure she could make him under¬ 
stand. 

But nobody came along to disturb the afternoon peace. 
The white road stretched like a ribbon ahead under arch¬ 
ing trees, the crickets sang under the browning golden rod, 
a cicada grated out his raucous voice, the wild asters, white 
and pink and blue and yellow nodded in the soft breeze 
with their first opening clusters of stars, and yellow butter¬ 
flies whirled dreamily, lighting in the dusty grass by the 
roadside. It was beautiful and still. It looked so dear. 
She could not believe she was going away from it all, out 
into the world alone. Her soul cried out to return, to 
destroy her notes and unlock her trunk and try to make 
some other finish to this day that had begun so gorgeously 
and was ending so sorrowfully. But something drove 
her feet forward in the way, and she passed on around the 
Curve of the road till Silver Sands and the way to the Flats 
were out of sight and the tears were blinding her eyes so 
that she could not see ahead. 

“ Good-bye, dear home! ” she whispered softly to * 
herself. And then just ahead of her, an old man hurried 
hobbling into the road and waved his hand. 

“ Oh, lady, lady! I’m so glad you come by. There’s 
a little child up there in that shanty dying I’m feered. It 
fell over the rocks an’ broke its leg, an’ done somepin to 
its insides I guess, an’ I’m runnin’ to get the doctor. Won’t 
you just go up there lady and stay with the baby till I 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


329 


git back? I sha’n’t be five minutes. I just cantta bear to 
leave it all alone.” 

Silver looked at her watch and glanced up the hill. 
There was plenty of time if the man hurried, even if it 
took him ten minutes, for the train did not leave the Junc¬ 
tion till ten minutes of five and it was just as well that 
she should not get there till train time, lest someone might 
see her. 

“ Yes,” she said, “ but hurry! I must make my train.” 
Then she turned and began swiftly to climb the hill while 
the old man began to run stiffly down the road. 

The hill was steeper than she thought and the suit¬ 
case heavy but she managed to reach the little hovel in 
very good time, and stepping inside, rubbed her eyes to 
get the sunshine out for the room seemed very dark. She 
put down her suitcase and began groping across to find 
the child, pausing a moment to get used to the dark, when 
suddenly she felt the door shut behind her with a slam 
and something like a key turning in a lock. 

In horror she rushed back, almost falling over her 
suitcase, and groped for the knob, but there was none. 
The door was fast, and when she pounded on it there were 
only hollow reverberations. It was so still in the little place 
that it did not seem possible that there could be anyone 
else in the room, even a dying child. Perhaps it was dead 
already. She felt so alone. Her heart was beating wildly. 
She tried to tell herself that of course the door had blown 
shut and a night latch had fastened it, but a night latch 
usually opened from the inside. It must be she would be 
able to find a knob when she grew calmer and could see 
better. She groped back to the door and tried once more, 
but with no better success. The door seemed smooth all 
over and fitted close. There was no crack for light to 
come in. Was that a step outside? No, she must have 


330 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


been mistaken. And yet—how strange! She had seen 
the man run down the road! But the child! She ought to 
be attending to it! Could it be that she had got into the 
wrong place? Were there two buildings on the hill? 
Should she cry out for assistance? It was not far from 
the road. Someone would be passing soon. Surely there 
was no need for her to be frightened. The old man would 
soon return with the doctor and then she would be set free. 

She remembered her little pocket flash that she always 
carried in her handbag. She tried to find it and at last 
located it and touched the spring.' The ray of light revealed 
the bare stone walls, the rude box, and huddled leaves, the 
empty fireplace, the frying pan, and cup, and a crust of dry 
bread. There was no child anywhere. 

She examined the window carefully and found it 
firmly sealed. There seemed to be no implement with 
which she might attempt to break it open. She swept the 
room with the light and saw no possible way to get out. 
Her heart was fluttering so that her breath was labored. 

“ Help me, O Christ! Steady me! Show me a way to 
get out of here before it is too late! ” she prayed. Then she 
advanced to the fireplace and turned the flash upward. The 
rough sooty stones loomed above her in irregular knobs, 
jogging out here and there, and above them, in the 
brilliancy of the speck of light, a branch of a tree, thick 
with leaves, waved backward and forward. 

“ There is always a way up,” came the words in mem¬ 
ory from some famous story or sermon, she could not 
tell which, but it thrilled her soul. It was not far to 
the branch. Could she make it, up the slippery, cobbled 
way? Was the space big enough? Could she get her 
suitcase out too? She measured the distance with her 
eye, noted the stones that stuck out. Would they bear 
her? But how could she climb with a suitcase? Yet she 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


331 


must have it if possible. There was a bolt of blue ribbon 
in her suitcase, a whole ten yards. Was it strong enough 
to hold the suitcase if she tied the other end around her 
waist and then pulled it up after her ? And supposing she 
made the top of the chimney, could she climb down with¬ 
out breaking her neck? Well, it would be better there out 
in God’s open than shut in this dark place where no one 
could see her or hear her and perhaps she could climb the 
tree. As for the suitcase she would do her best and then 
let it go if she had to. But she must get out of here before 
that man returned if he was the instigator of some inten¬ 
tion against her. If it was only some mistake of a dead- 
latch she must find the child. It even now might be crying 
with fear. She must work fast in any case. 

She hurried back to her suitcase, searched out the 
ribbon, tied one end firmly to the handle, the other round 
her waist. Put her purse inside the neck of her dress, 
turned her wrap inside out and tied it firmly over her head 
and shoulders to protect hat and dress as much as possible, 
and flash in hand began her perilous climb. It was a nar¬ 
row place to squeeze through. She put her suitcase up 
a couple of feet and rested it on a ledge, supporting it with 
one hand as she climbed, setting a foot here on a pro¬ 
jecting stone, putting a hand there in a crevice where the 
crumbling plaster gave way before her touch. Slowly, 
painfully, stopping for breath, cautious because one wrong 
move might undo all, she crept on. Once she missed her 
footing and the stone rolled down leaving her with only 
one foot on a loose stone, and once the suitcase slipped off 
suddenly jerking the ribbon around her waist and almost 
bringing her down with it, but she caught herself in time, 
and clinging to the wall prayed, “ help me! Help me! O 
Christ, give me strength! Give me steadiness! ” 

It was like those dreams that come sometimes, where 


332 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS, TIME 


we find ourselves crawling through an endless tunnel that 
grows smaller and smaller, and finally our strength gives 
out, we collapse and are stuck fast. Two or three times 
she thought she could not go on, and closed her eyes to 
rest. She could not look up because the dust and soot 
filled her eyes, so on and on she crept, coming to one 
place so small she could just get her head through, and 
was sure she could not go further, but finally managed to 
wriggle through, with the dead weight of the suitcase 
dangling after, hitting against the wall and bumping, im¬ 
peding her upward way. Perhaps after all she would have 
to cut the ribbon and let it drop. 

“ Help! Help! O Christ—” and the blessed breath 
of air struck her face, and light. Real sunlight blinded 
her eyes. She was out! She caught a firmer hold, and 
just then the little flash light slipped away! She caught 
at it and almost lost her own hold, but could not get it. 
She heard it knock its way to the bottom of the hearth. 
Well, what matter! She would not need it now. Then 
she pulled herself free from the encasing wall and was 
out, head and shoulders above the little hut. 

She paused to rest and look about. No, there was 
no sign of any other building. No sound of crying child. 
What did it mean? Down below she could see the road 
and there was no pedestrian on it. An automobile swept by 
going very fast, but it was not the doctor’s car. Fear 
clutched her by the throat. She must get away at once. 

She writhed herself up out of the chimney. It proved 
to be a mere knob above the low sloping roof. She had 
a struggle with her suitcase and almost gave it up once, 
but finally brought it forth, crushed at one side and badly 
scratched, but still intact, and then it was a comparatively 
easy tiling to slide cautiously down the roof and drop 
carefully to the ground. 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 333 

She was free! But she was trembling so that for a 
moment she could not move. Her hands and face were 
scratched and sooty, and her arms were bruised and sore. 
She looked up at the blue sky and her heart said quickly 
in a burst of joy, “ Oh, thank you Christ! ” 

Then new strength seemed to come, and breath, and 
she flew away down the hill on the side where the under¬ 
growth was comparatively light, got into the highway, and 
the sunshine, and saw that she was not pursued, gradually 
grew steadier, and began to straighten her garments, wipe 
off the soot and give more thanks to God. There was a 
long strip torn out of her crepe de chine dress from hem 
to waist, an inch or two wide and left somewhere behind in 
that chimney, but what did that matter? She was free. 
Her shoes were scratched and dusty and not fit for a 
lady to take a journey anywhere in, but that was a small 
matter. One glove was split from wrist to finger and the 
other entirely gone, but what were gloves in a lifetime! 
She was on the road, some road. It did not look familiar 
and perhaps coming down this side of the hill she had 
missed her way, but there would be a train sometime, some¬ 
where, and she would find it. God had set her free, and 
now she knew she had done right in coming away. God 
had helped her on and not let her be hindered to make 
a lot of trouble for everybody. She would be able to get 
to her destination and write back in due time to set her 
father’s mind at rest. Then all would be well. 

Half an hour’s walk brought her to a small hamlet, 
but it was not the Junction. She had missed her way 
and missed her train, but they told her that a trolley line 
passed half a mile below and the cars ran every half hour. 
They would take her to her destination in less than two 
hours, and what did it matter? She lifted up her tired 
head, and went forward. 


XXIX 


Greeves came home an hour earlier than he had plan¬ 
ned, with it in mind to take the young people all into town to 
a concert that he had unexpectedly discovered. He stepped 
into the pantry and told Anne to have dinner ready by 
quarter to six if possible, and then up to his room to wash 
his hands and make one or two changes in his toilet. 

No one seemed to be about though the doors of both 
the girls’ rooms were closed. They were probably dress¬ 
ing for dinner or resting. There was time enough. He 
would not disturb them for another half hour. He stepped 
to his chiffonier and there lay Silver’s letter. He read it 
quickly with a fear at his heart, and then again. Then 
tearing down to the library wildly he took up the telephone 
and called up the station. No, Miss Greeves had not taken a 
train from there. She had come in and asked about the 
train but when she found the next one only stopped at the 
Junction she had gone out again. No, they hadn’t noticed 
which way she went. They were busy with some freight 
and they couldn’t stop to watch every female that came 
into that station anyhow, they were busy men, they were. 

Patterson Greeves slammed the receiver on, and stared 
at the wall. What was he to do next? She had taken a 
car to the city probably. He called up the garage. No, 
they had not even seen her. Bannard ? Perhaps Bannard 
had taken her. He would find out if Aunt Katie knew. 

But as he took up the receiver to phone, Bannard him¬ 
self walked into the room having been let in by Anne, an 
open letter in his hand, his face white and questioning. 

“ Has something happened Greeves ? I just found this 

334 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


335 


in the post office. Has Sil—has Miss Greeves gone back 
to her former home ? What’s the matter ? ” 

Patterson Greeves turned a white, anxious face to the 
minister. “ Upon my soul, Bannard, I don’t know what’s 
the matter! I just got this myself,” and he handed over 
his letter. “ I suppose it’s another outbreak of that other 
devilish child of mine! ” 

“ Perhaps Anne will know.” 

He rang and Anne appeared. 

“ Did Silver say anything about going out, Anne? ” 

“ No, master Pat. I think she’s in her room! I heard 
her there a little while back.” 

“ She’s not in her room, Anne. She’s gone! ” 

“ Gone, master Pat! Gone! Oh, that can’t be! Why, 
it’s not over an hour since she called to me something about 
a package she’d left in my room, a collar she promised to 
give me.” 

“ Well, she’s gone. Did anything happen, Anne ? Any¬ 
thing especially out of the way.” 

“ Miss Athalie,” Anne had her hand over her heart, 
“ I heard her crying and carrying on in one of her tan¬ 
trums,” she said anxiously. 

“ That’s it! I thought so! Silver has gone because 
she thinks Athalie would be happier with her out of the 
house. She wanted to go once before and I wouldn’t let 
her. Oh, my God! ” 

“ Oh, master Pat, don’t be a swearin’ now, please. She 
was that sweet a Christian. Surely she’ll come back.” 

“ Why certainly,” said Bannard eagerly, “ we must find 
her and bring her back. I will find her. Let me phone 
for Barry to bring my car. He can take his car too. It 
can’t surely take long to find her. She can’t have gone 


336 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


far in this short time. What time did you say she spoke 
to you Anne ? ” 

Suddenly they all became aware of Athalie standing 
in the door, her face stained with tears and white with 
recent emotion. A letter in her hand, a frightened look 
in her eyes. 

“ Is—Silver—here? ” she asked in a scared little voice, 
as she looked around the room. 

Athalie had been growing taller lately, and had really 
lost a good deal of flesh. And now as she stood and 
watched them all as if she had heard what had been going 
on she looked fairly fragile. Her father turned on her 
with fury in his eyes. 

“ No, your sister is not here. You have driven her 
away, you little devil! Get out of my sight. I never 
want to look on your face again! ” 

“ With an awful cry like the rending of soul from 
body, a continued cry that screeched through the house as 
the scream of a moving locomotive through the night, 
Athalie regarded her father for an instant and then turning 
tore up the stairs screaming as she went. She flung her¬ 
self with a mighty thud upon her bed and went into raving 
hysterics, but nobody paid the slightest attention to her. 
Bannard and Greeves had gone out of the house to meet 
the car, and Anne Truesdale was doing some telephoning 
for which the master had left orders, a message to Silver’s 
lawyer, another to the city station where she was to be 
paged, a discreet word to the chief of police. 

Barry met the two men half a block from the house 
and waiting only for a brief explanation of what he was 
wanted to do, went down the street on a dead run after 
his own car. The Silver house grew silent as the dead 
everywhere except in Athalie’s room where loud cries and 
sobs continued to ring out, until grandma called: 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


337 * 


“ Come here Pristina, don’t you hear something queer ? 
It sounds like some animal in distress.” 

Lizette Weldon hurried up the five stairs to her bay 
window landing and turned her head from side to side to 
try each ear and identify the voice. An hour later. Aunt 
Katie, unable to stand it any longer quietly slipped through 
the hedge with her smelling salts and asked Anne Truesdale 
who was slamming things around in the dining room with 
pursed angry lips and streaming eyes, if she might go up. 

“ Please yerself! ” said Anne, jerking a chair into 
place. “ She’s not worth it, the nasty little tyke! Let 
her cry herself sick if she wants. She and I are two 
people! ” 

So Aunt Katie went up with her smelling salts and 
talked kindly in a low, soothing tone, but Athalie knocked 
the bottle across the room and took on more wildly than 
ever, and finally Aunt Katie departed with a sigh, saying 
to Anne in the kitchen as she went out: 

“ The poor thing! The poor wilful thing! ” 

The weeping kept steadily on for an hour longer. Then 
Anne’s patience gave out and she went up with a glass 
of ice water and threw it in Athalie’s face, but the girl 
only strangled and choked and cried on the harder, so 
Anne went down, half frightened and wondered if she 
ought not to call the doctor. 

But at last the sounds died away, and Lizette and the 
Vandemeeters were able to get a little rest. It was grow¬ 
ing very late but Greeves and Bannard had not returned. 
Anne sent Molly and Joe to bed, with instructions not to 
undress, but be ready for any call, and herself put out 
the lights and took up her watch by the front drawing 
room window. Once she thought she saw a face peering 
round the lilac bush, but she knew it must be her eyes 


22 


338 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


after all the excitement so she put the thought away. By 
and by she dozed off and the town slept. 

When the morning dawned and the sun finally pene¬ 
trated the lilacs and shot into the drawing room window 
Anne Truesdale sat up and blinked. 

“ I must have dozed off,” she said shamedly to her¬ 
self, “ I wonder if the master has come. I’ll just slip up 
and see if that tyke is asleep.” 

But when she reached Athalie’s room there was nobody 
on the bed. With a growing fear she hurried from room 
to room, thinking perhaps she had changed her bed as 
once before, but found no sign of her and on the pillow in 
her father’s room was a little blistered note dramatically 
left open written large. 

“ Dear Dad: I’ve gone to find my sister. I won’t come 
back without her. I’m sorry. Athalie.” 

When Greeves read that, a few minutes later, having 
come in with Bannard after an all night fruitless search, 
he sank his haggard face in his hands and dropped into 
the nearest chair. 

“ My God! What have I done to deserve this ? ” 

“ Dearie, dearie,” said Anne to Molly, “ he’s swearin’ 
again. I guess mebbe there’s a pair of ’em. Mebbe she 
mightn’t to be so much to blame after all, takin’ after him 
as she does.” 

In the library the tray of breakfast that Anne had 
brought stood untouched. 

“What shall I do, Bannard? What shall I do? I 
have lost them both—! ” 

“ I tell you, man, you must pray! If you ever prayed 
you must pray now. Get down on your knees quick and 
tell the Lord you’re a sinner. He’s the only one can 
straighten this out.” 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


339 


And Patterson Greeves dropped down on his knees 
and prayed: 

“Lord I have sinned! I have sinned against Thee 
and against both my children. It is right I should be 
punished but don’t let them suffer. O Lord, forgive and 
help and save—■! ” 

And while he prayed, the telephone rang. Bannard 
answered it. 

“ Is that you, father? ” a sweet voice called that thrilled 
him with its familiarity. 

“ Oh, Silver is that you? Are you all right? ” said 
Bannard his whole soul in his voice, and knew not that 
he had called her by her dear name. 

“ Yes, your father is here. We have searched all night 
for you. Your father is quite broken by anxiety. Is 
Athalie with you? Yes, she’s gone. She apparently went 
sometime in the night. She left a note saying she had 
gone to find you and would not come home without you.” 

“ Oh, the dear child! I’ll come right home. I just got 
the message father phoned to the lawyer. I’m sorry I’ve 
caused so much trouble.” 

“Where are you now? The city? Good. There’s 
a train in a few minutes that doesn’t come through. You 
take it and I’ll meet you at the Junction with the car.” 

Barry had come in while the conversation was going on 
and he turned a startled face to Anne in the doorway. 

“ Athalie gone? ” he asked. “ Aw, gee! ” 

Anne handed him the note that Greeves had dropped 
on the floor. He read it with softening eyes, then turned 
to Anne and said in a low tone: 

“ Say, you get me a shoe or something of hers. I’ve 
got the dog here. He’s good on following a scent. I’ll 
see what I can do.” 


340 


TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME 


Anne obeyed and Barry departed with instructions for 
Anne to tell Bannard when he had finished telephoning. 

Greeves was still upon his knees, his face buried in his 
hands. Bannard stepped over and put his hand upon the 
man’s shoulder. 

“ Silver is found,” he said gently, “ she’s coming right 
home on the next train. I’m to meet her at the Junction. 
Will you go with me?” 

He had forgotten for the moment that Athalie was 
gone. 

Greeves roused and stood up, his face white and deeply 
marked. There were tears upon his cheeks. 

“ I must go and find my other girl,” he said hurriedly, 
“ my poor wronged child! ” 


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